Gorgon
by MachinaEm
Summary: Six months have passed since Alek denounced his claim to the throne and Deryn left the Air Service, but still the Great War rages on. They find themselves tangled in the sinister affairs of royalty when Deryn is given the dangerous task of impersonating a princess, and if her secret is discovered it may cost her. Surrounded by lies and deceit, can they escape with their lives?
1. Jargon

**Chapter 1:  
"Jargon"**

 ** _July 16, 1915  
Zoological Society of London_**

It had been nearly a year since all this madness had begun, and it seemed to Deryn that the world was just as stark raving mad _now_ as it had been at the dawn of the Great War. Clankers and Darwinists were still clawing at each other's throats, boffins were still scheming, and beasties and soldiers were still killing and still dying.

Deryn had been one of those soldiers for a long time, soaring through gorgeous blue skies aboard massive airships and tromping along in giant metal walkers all over the world. She'd been to more places than she could ever have imagined- Istanbul, Russia, and even Mexico and America, all the way across the great wide Atlantic Ocean. She'd had the most exhilarating adventures- and of course, she'd met _him._

Alek. Even thinking about the moment he'd kissed her atop the Leviathan made her heart beat faster in her chest. She'd saved Alek's life countless times, and he'd saved hers once or twice, too. They'd endured so much together- a German assault in the Alps, a Turkish revolution, the insane Tesla and his strange and deadly contraptions. Why, that _dummkopf_ prince even gave up his lands, title, and right to the throne just to be by her side. It was only fair that she give up her place in the British Air Service to be by his _._

But when she'd joined the London Zoological Society, she had never imagined that she'd be spending her time doing something as daft as _this._

"This is downright _awful!_ I feel like such a ninny trying to keep up with all this fancy jargon!" Deryn moaned irritably.

Alek let loose an exasperated sigh- they'd been at this for nearly a month and still Deryn struggled to make any noticeable improvement. "Perhaps what you _mean_ to say is that you feel foolish due to your lack of proper vocabulary."

"No, you daft prince! I mean that I _can't_ do this!" Deryn snapped.

"Ah, you find that you are incapable of performing such a daunting task?" Alek teased, a smirk beginning to spread across his face.

This ridiculous project had begun just a few months after Deryn and Alek had begun their work at the zoological society. It had been the lady boffin's idea- Dr. Barlow never seemed to run out of strange notions.

"Now, Alek," Dr. Barlow had instructed, "you have quite obviously received only the best tutelage, and I believe your expertise is more than enough to transform miss Sharp into a… ah, an _upstanding_ member of society. A poised, polite lady capable of speaking her mind with discretion."

"I always speak my mind with discretion!" Deryn had argued. "I'm not daft like you two bonkers, I know exactly what I'm going to say and how I'm going to say it."

Alek coughed to conceal his laughter, but Deryn noticed it anyway.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Aleksander, but I do not believe that calling your colleagues 'bonkers' is appropriate for a young lady of Deryn's caliber." Dr. Barlow mused.

Alek smiled. "I must agree with the doctor."

Deryn huffed out a sigh and crossed her arms, but before she could say a word, the lady boffin shot her a look serious as stone.

"As much as I'd like to tell you that the purpose of this exercise is to transform you into a polite young lady, this is not the case. I promise you, there will come a time when your ability to speak like a well bred woman of status will be of the utmost import. Now, one of you needs to walk Tazza. The poor dear has been cooped up in my office all morning."

That was the end of that. From that moment on, Alek had been tutoring her to speak with the dialogue of a 'proper lady.'

So far, Deryn had yet to succeed. Alek wasn't a bad teacher, but he always ended up making fun of her. Like he was right now. His smirk had turned into a smug grin.

"Don't you dare make fun of me, you bum-rag!" Deryn scoffed, but she couldn't keep herself from smiling right back.

"I doubt that even _I_ could determine an appropriate way to say something as vulgar as _that…_ I suppose you could call me a 'preposterous nitwit' instead?" Alek suggested.

"Barking spiders! I'm not _ever_ going to get a serious answer from you, am I?" Deryn exclaimed.

Alek kept right on driveling. "I doubt you will be able to extrapolate even the slightest amount of sympathy from me if you cannot-"

Deryn rolled her eyes. There was only one way to get him to shut his gob now. She leaned forward, gently touched his cheek, and looked him straight on, holding his eyes with her gaze.

"What-" Alek began, but she interrupted.

"Shhhhhh," she whispered, and kissed him.

...

To Alek, Deryn's lips were mesmerizing. Soft and warm, spectacular in every way, especially when they were pressed against his own. Somehow her lips were always enough to make him forget everything- what he was in the middle of saying, why he'd been saying it, even where he was. When he was touching her, nothing mattered except the way his face tingled where her hand was touching his skin, the way his blood flowed faster, and how his entire body felt incredibly, exquisitely hot.

He ran his fingers through Deryn's hair- it had grown longer since she'd left the air service, and she no longer had to conceal her gender to avoid suspicion. Before it had been so short and spiky, and now it was silky and smooth. It felt like satin between his fingers, and he often found himself just thinking about it. Though he felt a bit foolish for always wanting to ruffle it, and Deryn always complained how impractical long hair was, Alek could never resist playing with strands of it.

Alek spent the captivating moment falling even more in love with Deryn, wishing her embrace would last forever. Although they'd been kissing for more than a minute, his entire body ached with the desire to touch her the very second they separated.

"You were saying?" Deryn remarked casually.

"That's not fair," Alek protested.

Deryn raised her eyebrows, and swept a lock of blonde hair out of her face. "Are you saying you'd rather give me a vocabulary lesson than kiss me?"

"N-no, that's not what I'm saying!" Alek hastily proclaimed. He felt his face grow hot.

"Aww, you're blushing! Did I embarrass you, your ex-princeliness?" Deryn bared her teeth in a snarky grin. "If you'd rather go back to teaching me how to be a proper lady, go right ahead."

Alek reached out and placed his finger on Deryn's lips- they were still wet and warm from snogging. " _Dummkopf._ You know exactly what I'd rather do. Now it's my turn to shush _you._ "

They were mere centimeters apart when Dr. Barlow's calm, collected voice interrupted them.

"I'm quite sure you are working hard, Aleksander, Deryn, but you are both needed in my office immediately to attend to an urgent matter. Count Volger is already waiting there for you. Don't dilly-dally."

Alek jumped at the sight of a bright green lizard, which was crawling up the leg of a table nearby. He would never get used to seeing fabrications everywhere. Deryn, on the other hand, seemed quite relieved.

"Phew," she breathed. "Just a wee message lizard. Would have been a bit awkward if were the lady boffin herself." Alek couldn't help but agree.

Bitterly, he stood up. "We should go." He mumbled reluctantly.

Deryn looked up at him through her eyelashes. Her face was flushed and her hair was mussed, but still Alek nearly swooned just looking at her.

"Oh, all right. I suppose we have to get a move on." She conceded.

Alek took her hand in his. "Deryn," he said softly, "you are beautiful in every way."

To his surprise, her cheeks turned pink and she squeezed his hand.

"You're not too shabby yourself, Alek. Now, let's move out before Dr. Barlow has a fit."

Alek nodded his agreement, although he was still remembering the taste of her lips. With Deryn by his side, it was easy to forget that there was a war on.


	2. The Princess & The Poison

**Chapter 2:  
"The Princess & The Poison"**

 ** _July 16, 1915  
_** _ **London Zoological Society**_

If there was one way to describe the Zoological Society's headquarters, it was _lavish._ Alek was used to ornate décor and dramatic, opulent architecture built to impress. After all, he had lived in a palace for most of his life.

Deryn, however, never seemed to stop gaping at the Society's resplendent chandeliers (lit by revolting glow-worms, of course) and luxurious, elaborately patterned carpets that had been woven with animal furs fabricated to resist damage.

Even now, as they made their way upstairs to Dr. Barlow's quarters, a path they'd taken dozens of times, Deryn's neck was craned upwards and she was gawking at the decorative ceiling.

"That's pure dead _fancy._ I swear, this whole place is a tad too splendiferous for me." She declared. "Put me back aboard a smelly airship any day."

Alek felt a twinge of guilt at that. He knew it wasn't completely his fault that Deryn had left the service. After all, she would have been discovered in only a matter of time had she stayed. Even as she was now, a mere six months since joining the Society, her… _chest_ had grown considerably. Perhaps it was just that she no longer had to wrap herself in linen to conceal her shape.

Despite the fact that she no longer hid her gender, Deryn still dressed in boy's clothes. "I won't be stuffed back into skirts," she'd sworn the same day she'd left the service. To Alek's surprise, Dr. Barlow hadn't argued. "If any member of this Society believes that a girl wearing pants is scandalous, I shall simply remind them that it also used to be considered scandalous for women to study science. If it bothers them, perhaps they should consider changing their perspective."

Alek supposed that he should be thankful that Deryn was safe from the consequences she would have faced was still been a crew member of the Leviathan. If her secret had been exposed, she'd have faced consequences far worse than being labeled as 'scandalous.' But still, she had his sympathy. It was clear that leaving the air had been difficult for Deryn, who truly felt that her home was in the skies.

A part of Alek missed it, too. Not so much being inside of enormous foul-smelling airbeasts, but the danger of it all, and the exhilaration of adventure. The Society was certainly a magnificent place, but often Alek found himself longing for excitement. He was sure Deryn was _aching_ to experience some action.

When they'd finally reached Dr. Barlow's office, after trudging up two flights of stairs and making their way through a dizzying maze of (as Deryn had put it, 'splendiferous') corridors, Alek realized that he'd been holding her hand the entire way there. He released it quite suddenly and pretended not to realize he was blushing. How juvenile was he to traipse around just holding her hand like that? They must have looked like children.

"Don't be daft, Alek. I'd never be embarrassed to hold your hand. And try to keep your cheeks from getting _too_ tomato red, you ninny, or the count will make fun of you." Deryn warned.

There was a brief silence before Dr. Barlow's voice, muffled by the door, interjected. "Are you two going to join us, or stand out there the entire afternoon? I do recall saying that you were needed _immediately._ "

" _Blisters_ _,_ " Deryn swore under her breath, and opened the door.

The walls of Dr. Barlow's office were bare, save for a portrait of Darwin in an embossed brass frame that hung perfectly straight behind a desk. Although there were three empty chairs in the room, one behind the desk and two in front of it, neither Dr. Barlow nor Count Volger were sitting.

Volger was facing the opposite direction, staring out the window overlooking the courtyard with his hands clasped behind his back. As always, his sword hung at his hip. Volger hadn't parted with it even after Alek had explained to the wildcount that there was no need for a weapon in a place like the Society.

Dr. Barlow was leaning against her desk, poring over a stack of papers coolly. Her bowler hat was slightly askew atop her head, and Bovril was perched precariously on her shoulder. "Ah, you two have finally arrived. I've no time to scold you both for your lateness, so sit down." She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk.

Alek uttered a quick apology before he sat. Deryn plopped down beside him. "What's the rush, Dr. Barlow? Has something happened?"

Dr. Barlow sat and gave Deryn a pained look. "Something is always happening, Miss Sharp. There is a war on, you know. But enough with the pleasantries. Do you recognize this girl?"

From the stack of papers she'd been examining, she retrieved a photograph and handed it to Deryn. After a quick glance, Deryn shook her head.

"Never laid an eye on this lass in my life." She handed the picture to Alek. "What about you?"

Alek studied the photograph. The frame pictured a plain young girl, perhaps around his age, with wavy dark hair cropped a bit below the ear. Perceptive dark eyes stood out against her pale skin. She wasn't smiling- the expression on her face was distant, as if she were staring at something to the far right of the camera. She wore several strings of pearls and her lace dress was adorned with delicate, complicated embroidery. She was obviously wealthy to be able to afford such expensive embellishments.

Alek thought she seemed vaguely familiar, but no name came to mind.

"I don't recall her either," he said after a moment, handing the photograph back to Dr. Barlow. "Though I get a strange feeling that she does look a bit familiar. I'm sure that I've seen her somewhere."

Dr. Barlow took the photo and glanced at it for a moment before setting it down on the desk before her. "I didn't suppose either of you would know this girl. But, not to worry. You will get to know her very well, and you have little time to do so. In a mere two weeks, you will both be attending a rather exquisite gala. But you, Deryn, will not be going as yourself. You shall be attending in disguise, impersonating this girl: Her Royal Highness, Princess Mary of Wales."

...

Deryn was unable to contain her laughter. "You want me- _me-_ to dress up in some frilly gown and play at being a princess? _Me_ _,_ the lass who's spent the last few years pretending to be a barking _man_? Pardon me, Doctor, but that's a load of clart if there ever was one! I can barely wear skirts without tripping over the hem!"

Dr. Barlow's pained expression transformed into an irritated one. "Now listen here, Miss Sharp, I not only believe that you are capable of impersonating this princess, but I am certain that you are the most qualified candidate for the job. It is _because_ you were able to successfully fool the entire British Air Service, including _me_ , into thinking you were a man, that I have chosen you for this difficult task."

"But that's different!" Deryn protested. "Besides, being a boy is _loads_ easier than being a girl!"

" _Mister_ Sharp," Bovril interjected. The lady boffin chose to ignore this. Instead, she massaged her temples with her fingers.

"I would not ask you to perform such a task if it was not absolutely necessary, Miss Sharp." She said quietly. "I have perused many other options, and this is the only one that has any hope of success." She picked up the photograph, gazed at it for a moment, and set it back down on the desk before her. "This is an extremely unstable situation. The princess's life is at stake. You are the best bet we have at keeping her safe."

Deryn heaved a defeated sigh. "Oh, all right. But I don't look anything like this posh princess. And I don't know a thing about her, either!"

Dr. Barlow straightened her bowler. "Not to worry. We'll have you cleaned up quite well when the time comes. To make matters simpler, Her Royal Highness has a weak constitution. Thus, she is ill quite frequently and rarely attends social events. Very few outside her family have ever laid eyes upon her in person."

For the first time since they'd entered the room, Count Volger turned away from the window to face them. "I have the task of preparing you to imitate royalty." He huffed. "I suppose it's _possible_. After all, His Highness somehow managed."

Deryn stifled a laugh. "Suppose I manage to make a convincing princess. Why do I have to go to some ridiculous party dressed up as her?"

"To call it a party would be to put it mildly," Volger asserted. "This will be an _event_. Only the most influential Darwinists will be in attendance, and they will not be there for festivities. The gala will be hosted by the young Doctor Chester Sullivan."

"Who is that?" Alek asked. "I've never heard of him before."

Dr. Barlow scowled. "Only the most preposterous, pompous swine ever to call himself a man of science!" Deryn, Alek, and even Volger were startled into silence at the lady boffin's outburst.

"I'm guessing you're not a fan of his?" Deryn said hesitantly.

"No, I most certainly am _not_." Dr. Barlow replied forcefully. "The man does not comprehend the concept of moral boundaries when it comes to science!"

"Preposterous, pompous swine!" Bovril chirped cheerily.

Alek shifted in his seat. "Dr. Barlow, I'm still a bit uncertain as to who exactly this man is."

"Forgive me," the lady boffin said. Once again, she straightened her bowler hat atop her head. "I suppose I got a bit overexcited thinking of that irresponsible dimwitted coward, but I digress." She cleared her throat. "Dr. Sullivan happens to be the founder of Red Star Chemicals, a company that manufactures chemical weapons."

"So, that means they make tear gas?" Deryn asked.

"Oh, they make more than that, Miss Sharp. Not only do they manufacture tear gas, they also produce chlorine gas, nicknamed 'Red Star' after the company that produces it. This gas is known to be lethal- it causes serious damage to the lungs and can asphyxiate soldiers. And that's not all. The reason Dr. Sullivan is hosting this gala is because he wants financial support for his newest creation: Black Star."

"Black Star? Is that similar to chlorine gas?" Alek wondered.

Dr. Barlow shook her head. "According to the intelligence that the Society has gathered, its consequences could be far, _far_ more severe. We have evidence that shows that Black Star isn't just manufactured with chemicals- scientists have manipulated the life strings of dozens of species of venomous spiders, snakes, and frogs to make this weapon extremely disastrous."

"Barking spiders, indeed." Deryn whispered gravely.

Count Volger's voice was solemn as he added, "This is an unpredictable situation. It could turn the tide of the war. The problem is, although many Darwinists oppose the use of such a brutal weapon, they fear Red Star will turn to the Clankers to find a buyer if they are rejected here."

"The Germans wouldn't hesitate a single second. I have no doubt that they would immediately take Sullivan up on his offer, no matter what the cost." Dr. Barlow avowed, her eyes narrowed.

"What exactly does the Princess of Wales have to do with a chemical weapons manufacturer?" Alek wondered. "Why is it so important that she attend this gala?"

"She has played an important part in this war, albeit from the sidelines." Dr. Barlow clarified. "Despite her illness, she went out of her way to visit wounded soldiers in hospitals and assist welfare organizations. Last Christmas, she created a fund to send gifts to British soldiers and sailors. More than one hundred thousand pounds worth of presents were donated by British citizens in her name. Although she has played no part in the fighting itself, Princess Mary's name has become a symbol of hope to both soldiers and the British people."

"I see," Alek murmured. "So if Her Royal Highness announces her support for Red Star, saying that she believes that their chemical weaponry could end the fighting in favor of the Darwinists, then the British people are likely to agree. They may even donate to Red Star because of her approval."

"Aye, but the opposite is also true, isn't it?" Deryn pointed out. "If Princess Mary denounces Red Star and their weapons, calling them barbaric, Brits wouldn't stand for it either."

"Exactly," Dr. Barlow agreed. "The Society has contacted the royal family, and Her Royal Highness has made it perfectly clear that she believes Red Star's chemical weapons are savage and inhumane. Princess Mary was eager to attend the gala and speak up, but her family fears that if she voices this opinion publicly at the gala, she may be putting herself in immediate danger."

"And that's why you need me," Deryn finished. "So _I_ can speak for her and she can remain out of harm's way."

"Correct." Count Volger stated.

"What about me?" Alek asked. "Will I also be attending the gala?"

"Of course," the lady boffin declared. "You have already received a formal invitation. You have also become something of a symbol for the Darwinists."

Alek sighed unhappily. "I'm not quite sure that I'm a symbol of hope for anyone. Not the Darwinists, and certainly not the Austrians."

"Oh, don't be daft, Alek," Deryn scolded. "People look up to you more than you think."

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Mary of Wales." Bovril said cheerily.

"Aye, that's me!" Deryn grinned. She nudged Alek in the shoulder. "Imagine me, being royalty!"

"I honestly don't know if I can," Alek confessed.

" _I_ most certainly cannot." Remarked Volger. "Training you to be a princess will be one enormous headache."


	3. A Royal Headache

**Chapter 3:  
"A Royal Headache"**

 ** _July 25, 1915  
London Zoological Society_**

Wildcount Ernst Volger was a man of many talents, but it did not seem to Deryn that teaching was among them.

"So he made a decent fencing instructor." She grumbled to Alek one evening after she'd escaped from her agonizing lessons with the count. "But blisters, is he a _rotten_ tutor!"

"Remind me again why we are having this conversation inside a miniscule broom closet?" Alek complained flatly.

" _Shhhhhh_ ," Deryn hushed him. "Not so loud, you bum-rag!" She crouched uncomfortably and grimaced - her back was pressed up against the door, and the knob was digging rather painfully into her side. "Not a squick louder than a whisper, or he'll find me!"

"He might not be the friendliest fellow, but I can't possibly imagine that his lessons are terrible enough that you're hiding from him." Alek exclaimed. "Imagine that, the courageous ex-midshipman Dylan Sharp, hiding from his lessons."

"It's not the _lessons_ that I'm hiding from, you ninny, it's that ruthless count!" She argued, shuddering at the sheer thought of Volger and his thick gray moustache.

There were only three days remaining until Deryn was to attend the gala hosted by Red Star Chemicals in disguise, and after more than a week of lessons with the Count, she was miserable and no better at acting like royalty than she had been before. Volger often remarked that tutoring her was a headache, but it was always Deryn who ended up with a throbbing pain in her skull when it was over.

"Also," Alek added, "Why did you drag in here with you? It's pitch dark and there's not even enough room for one person, let alone the both of us." As usual, Alek was right. He and Deryn were crammed so close together that her diddies were pressed right up against his chest. There didn't need to be any light in this blasted closet for her to know that he was blushing red as a tomato.

"Volger is downright detestable." She avowed, ignoring Alek's bashfulness. Honestly, Deryn had dragged him along thinking they'd have a quick snog, they barely even had enough space to breathe. Kissing would have been near impossible.

"Besides," she continued, "He told me my English was deplorable and that I'd be better off impersonating an _ursine_ than a princess!"

"He compared you to a Russian fighting bear?" Alek asked, incredulous. Then, after a bit of thought, he chuckled. "I guess with a bit of fur and some claws, you'd make an excellent- Ouch!" Deryn had pinched his arm viciously. "That's going to leave a mark!"

She crossed her arms- or tried to, but her left was jammed between a broom and the wall and she only ended up closer to Alek. "I might not act like one, but I _am_ a girl."

"Believe me," Alek replied, "I am most certainly aware of that fact at the moment."

Deryn tried as hard as she could not to snort out peals of laughter.

"Deryn," Alek hinted, trying to break the awkward silence, "you're proving his point. A princess would never _attack_ someone or resort to violence like that. A fighting bear, on the other hand…"

"I didn't _attack_ you, I just pinched you a wee bit." Deryn muttered. "But I suppose you're right. So what does your princeliness suggest that I do instead? Curtsy?"

"Hm," Alek mused. "I suppose that if I were compared to an ursine, I'd take it as a compliment. After all, they're known for being quite powerful. Rather than allowing Volger to insult you, find a way to twist his words to work in your favor without getting angry."

"I see," Deryn said. "But Volger is too clever. He'd see through that with no trouble."

" _Not only that_ ," came a grimly familiar voice from the other side of the door, "I can also hear you from out here with no trouble."

"Blisters! How'd he find me so fast?" Deryn cursed.

"Well," observed Volger from the other side of the door, "much like an ursine, you are appallingly noisy and leave irreparable destruction in your wake."

" _Destruction?_ " Gaped Alek. "Deryn, what did you _do_?"

"Nothing!" Deryn insisted, then racked her brains for a bit. "On second thought, I may have dropped by the message lizard room and shouted 'Count Volger is urgently needed in the mailroom' in my best Dr. Barlow voice," she admitted. "I think nearly a dozen of the wee beasties went scurrying away shortly after."

"There's a mailroom here?" Alex asked with uncertainty.

"Well, probably." Deryn figured dubiously. "I mean, it's likely."

"Indeed there is a mailroom here," the Count affirmed, his tone frigid. "It happened to be located on the highest floor of this building, accessible only by climbing twelve flights of stairs. It _also_ happened to be filled with fabricated birds, an utterly _offensive_ odor, and about a dozen disgruntled employees who had no idea who I was or why I would possibly be needed there."

Deryn winced. "He sounds a tad cross," she whispered to Alek under her breath.

"Cross?" Alek croaked. "He's completely vexed."

"A better word would be _irate,_ " was Count Volger's biting reply. "So furious, in fact, that I've decided to lock this door from the outside until young Deryn can prove to me that my efforts to tutor her in etiquette were fruitful."

"Barking spiders, you're a madman!" bellowed Deryn, just as Alek shouted,

"Wait just a moment!"

"A moment? I have the entire night to wait. Once she can prove that she possesses any semblance of manners, I shall set you both free." Volger promised.

"But I've got nothing to do with this!" Alek protested. Deryn resisted the urge to pinch him again.

"I have no doubt that you were an accomplice to Miss Sharp's plotting," Volger asserted. "If you weren't, then why are you inside that closet with her?"

...

There were few times that Alek was left speechless, but this was certainly one of them. To call Count Volger 'displeased' would be the understatement of the century.

Not only that, but Alek was completely flustered. He'd never been so close to Deryn before, and the way her chest was pressed against his was absolutely indecent. Not necessarily unpleasant, but _indecent_. Improper. Immoral. Immodest. _Amazing._

"Blisters, all right!" Deryn roared. "I'll prove to that I can be the most respectable, poised, posh lady ever to be crammed inside a barking broom closet!"

"I'm not sure that's the best start," Alek muttered, but, remembering the pain in his arm where he'd been pinched, he sealed his lips.

"Well," came Count Volger's unimpressed voice, "Let's make some small talk, shall we?"

To Alek's surprise, Deryn masked her strong Scottish accent behind a British one. "Oh, of course, Count. But let's discuss something a bit more intellectual than the weather. Perhaps the state of the Eastern front?"

"Ah," Volger declaimed pompously, "but such unseemly topics are unsuited for a young lady of such an innocent, proper upbringing."

"I must respectfully disagree," said Deryn, "but I find that a lady in a position like mine as a public figure has the responsibility of discussing such _unseemly_ topics for the benefit of the people she represents."

Alek was thankful for the darkness. Deryn surely would have pinched him again if she saw that his jaw had gone slack. He'd known her for more than a year, and yet he had never imagined that she could sound anything like _this-_ like an aristocrat.

He felt a pang of regret when he realized that Deryn reminded him of his mother. She, once a lady in waiting, had occasionally struggled with the delicate pleasantries of court. He remembered how she had tried to replicate the eloquence of other nobles, hoping to keep from embarrassing her husband.

Alek's heart felt cold. He had learned to accept his parent's deaths in Sarajevo, but thinking of them was still agonizing. He would never admit it to the Count, and he didn't want Deryn to see him in pain, but there were times like these when he missed his mother and father terribly. He wondered if he would forget their faces one day, and the thought terrified him. He'd grown up since then, but he still felt like a child, scared and alone, when he remembered the moment that Volger had informed him of his parents' murders.

"Alek? Is everything all right?" His dark thoughts were interrupted by Deryn's voice, her thick Scottish accent back. "I think I charmed the boots off that snobbish count."

"I am still outside," remarked Volger. "And my boots are still on my feet. However, I am forced to admit that you were _slightly_ more believable than an ursine dressed as a princess would be."

Alek grinned, thankful for the darkness.

"Feel free to come out whenever you like," said the Count.

"What do you mean?" asked Alek. "Don't you have to unlock the door?"

"Of course not," Volger declared. "Why would anyone bother to put a lock on a broom closet?"

"You mean we could have left this bloody closet whenever we liked?" Deryn bellowed. "You sneaky, shifty, lying bum-rag of a count!"

Without a moment's warning, the door swung open and both Deryn and Alek tumbled backwards out into the hall in a tangle of limbs.

"Oof!" Alek exclaimed as the wind was knocked out of him.

"Well, a good evening to you both," commented Dr. Barlow, who stood over them in her signature bowler cap with something like a smirk on her face. Tazza was at her side and Bovril was perched on her shoulder.

"Better off impersonating an ursine," he said to no one in particular.

"Wha…" gasped Deryn from the floor. "You were outside, too?"

"Why of course," replied the doctor. "In fact, this was my idea. I needed to know if Count Volger's lessons were producing results, so I decided to devise a little test."

"You cannot be serious," groaned Alek, rolling away from Tazza. The thylacine was prancing around him earnestly, trying eagerly to lick his face.

"Oh, but I am," replied Dr. Barlow. "And Deryn passed this test with flying colors. I'm quite impressed at her progress. I believe she'll make an excellent princess at the gala."

"I don't know if I should be angry or pleased," Deryn grumbled, sitting up and rubbing her hip. "I suppose I'll settle for somewhere in between." After letting out a long sigh, she clambered to her feet and offered Alek a hand. "It was pure dead _cramped_ in there," she remarked after helping him stand.

"Ah, yes. Terribly cramped," Alek quickly agreed, brushing himself off. Count Volger thankfully remained silent, but rolled his eyes.

"I suppose I'm not the most, um, tolerable student," Deryn admitted stubbornly. "But next time just give me the test in a bloody classroom!" She shot Volger a withering glare, then grabbed Alek's hand in her own. "Come along, Alek. Let's see if we can scrape up some dinner from the kitchens before it's too late."

As he followed her down the hall, Alek couldn't help but smile when Bovril drawled, "Count Volger is urgently needed in the mailroom."


	4. A Change of Plans

**Chapter 4:  
"A Change of Plans"**

 ** _July 27, 1915  
London Zoological Society_**

Deryn Sharp considered herself an expert in the art of swearing. Not only had she been surrounded by seasoned, downright _vulgar_ airmen aboard the Leviathan, she'd also taken it upon herself to learn as much German profanity as possible from her Clanker acquaintances. It hadn't been nearly as difficult as she'd first anticipated- Alek never swore, but Klopp had displayed some mightily impressive vocabulary in Istanbul.

Despite her extensive collection of expletives, Deryn exhausted every last one of them before reaching the top of the spiral staircase she was climbing.

"Barking spiders, how am I expected to breathe in this ridiculous costume?" She muttered to herself as she made her way up to Dr. Barlow's office. Twice she had been forced to stop and readjust her bodice so she could inhale. "This blasted corset would be better off as a torture device than a fashion statement!"

It had taken a swarm of fussy, posh women, a lot of coaxing, and three torturous hours to prepare Deryn for the gala. When she was finally ready and the finishing touches had been made on her hair, (dyed dark with an exotic Indian mixture called _henna_ ) she'd been ordered by a message lizard to be in the lady boffin's office "at this instant!" Deryn hadn't even had the chance to look at herself in a mirror- which she supposed was for the best.

She'd worn a dress before, at the Society's Christmas party ages ago, but that had been _miles_ different than this one. That one had been tolerable. This one, Deryn feared, was going to drive her stark raving mad before she even arrived at the gala. And, to top it all off, it had to be pink. Pink!

Thankfully, she was still managing to breathe by the time she'd arrived at Dr. Barlow's office. "I am never going to get used to this. It's pure dead horrible." She moaned before opening the door and stumbling in.

"Hopefully you can figure out how to walk properly before tonight," Count Volger said dryly, "or you'll stick out like an elephantine in a parade."

"Stop comparing me to beasties," Deryn snapped back. "First I'm an ursine, and now I'm an elephantine? What next, are you going to say I look like Bovril?"

"Now, now," Dr. Barlow responded, "we haven't got time for you to bicker. Turn this way, Deryn, and let me have a look at you."

Deryn shot the conniving count a scathing glare, which he shrugged off, and then faced the lady boffin. "Well? How do I look?"

Dr. Barlow put her hands on her hips and studied Deryn like she would a fabrication she'd never seen before. She cocked her head to the side, readjusted her bowler hat, and, with a solemn expression, looked her up and down. Bovril, perched on the boffin's shoulder as always, copied the doctor, staring at Deryn with its huge, glassy globe eyes.

"I must congratulate the beauticians," she finally remarked. "I cannot say you look exactly like Her Highness, but you certainly resemble her."

"I'd better after all that primping!" Deryn exclaimed. "It was a tad uncomfortable to say the least."

"Well," Dr. Barlow continued, "I wasn't particularly worried about your appearance. It's your etiquette I was worried about. But, you've proven that you're capable of acting the gentlewoman."

Volger huffed. "She might be able to speak like a well bred lady, but she can barely walk in that dress."

"Never you mind!" Deryn scowled. "I'll be used to it soon enough."

"Let us hope so," Volger answered coarsely.

"Why don't you take a seat? We're still waiting for Aleksander to arrive." The lady boffin instructed.

"I… I think this gown is a squick too tight for me to sit down," Deryn admitted. "To be honest, I think I'd suffocate if I sat." She shot a glance at the Count, daring him to say something. He simply rolled his eyes.

"Very well," the lady boffin conceded. "You'll be standing at the gala, so there's no need to worry."

"Actually," Deryn wondered, "I'm a wee bit confused. What exactly am I doing here? Why did you call me back to your office? Hasn't everything already been sorted out?"

"Everything shall be explained upon Mr. Hohenberg's arrival- ah. I believe he is here." Deryn squeezed in a breath and turned to face the door.

Upon meeting her eyes, Alek froze. His eyes widened, his expression astonished, and he choked out a startled "Oh."

"Well, then?" Deryn grinned, doing her best to curtsy cheekily. "How do I look?"

...

Alek had seen Deryn in a dress before. But this time was _completely_ different. Everything had changed- her hair was dark, her face was powdered, her dress was formal and elegant. The Edwardian gown made Deryn's feminine silhouette stand out more than it ever had. He'd never noticed her slim waist and narrow shoulders when she'd dressed as a soldier, but now they were all he could look at.

The long, flowing pink fabrics fanned out around her like rose petals. This was perhaps the first time he'd ever seen Deryn looked so delicate.

There was a short silence and Alek realized he was staring at her like a numbskull.

"Ah…You look lovely." He stated awkwardly, and quickly looked away.

"Oh, you're blushing like a schoolboy!" Deryn teased. "Do I really look that different?" Alek took a deep breath, hoping the Count couldn't see how red he was- he'd never hear the end of it. "Yes, that is to say, it's not as if you aren't lovely all the time. I mean, you look different, but not in a bad way…"

It was as if every single word Alek wanted to say was out of reach. His entire vocabulary had escaped him at the mere sight of her, and he was fumbling over his words every which way.

"As much as I revel in witnessing His Not-So Serene Highness at a loss for words, I do believe we have more important subjects to discuss." Count Volger declared flatly.

"Indeed," Dr. Barlow nodded. "Now. I need to inform the both of you that there has been a change of plans."

"What exactly does that mean?" Asked Alek.

"The Society's informants have learned more about the composition of Black Star, and their findings have shown that its effects may be strikingly more severe than we first anticipated. This means that we must do more than rely on Deryn's impersonation- we must prevent the sale of this gas at all costs."

"I don't understand," Alek said. "We already knew it was lethal. How can it be _more_ severe than that?"

Dr. Barlow closed her eyes for a moment, took a breath, and folded her hands, placing them on the desk in front of her. "According to the information we have collected, Black Star is not only fatal, it's extremely painful. The mixture of chemicals and poisons derived from fabricated beasts does not kill instantly. Once inhaled, it forces the muscles to become extremely rigid. The entire body becomes immobile, and eventually internal organs shut down. It could take hours before death." She looked directly at Alek, holding his gaze with her own. "The informants said that it would be akin to turning into stone."

"That's horrific!" Deryn burst out. "How did they even _know_ that would happen? They'd have had to test it on humans!"

Dr. Barlow's face was grave. "They did. On convicted criminals."

"That's barbaric," Alek gasped.

"That isn't all," the Doctor continued. "The effects of Black Star will not only impact soldiers. The components of the gas are so powerful that the environments where it is used will be utterly devastated. No living thing may ever be able to survive in the same place Black Star has been used. This not only endangers ecosystems now, but any that may exist in the future."

Count Volger turned to face Dr. Barlow. "This weapon could be the difference between winning and losing the war," he pointed out. "I'm shocked that the Society would give up such a tantalizing opportunity simply for the sake of some ecosystems."

"It would seem," Dr. Barlow stated soberly, "that the scientists within the society have come to a moral consensus. For once. And it is their belief that this is far too dangerous to both humans and nature. A permanent detrimental change in the environment is something we simply cannot allow."

"But if the Society doesn't allow it, the Admiralty might not care about its effects on the environment." Deryn noted. "And even if they do, Red Star Chemicals will just sell to the Clankers instead, right? So in the end, we still end up in a load of clart."

"Correct." Volger affirmed. "The best possible outcome, at least for the London Zoological Society, would be for neither the Darwinists nor the Clankers to make use of this weapon."

"This is an extremely volatile situation." Dr. Barlow agreed. "As of right now, we do not have enough information to have any hope of preventing the sale of Black Star to Germany. However, there is an alternate solution."

"And what is that?" Alek asked.

"We must abolish the good reputation that Red Star Chemicals has cultivated." Dr. Barlow announced. "There will almost certainly be a contained demonstration of Black Star's effectiveness tonight," she continued. "The first step in tarnishing Red Star's name will be to make this a total failure."

"Aye, that makes sense. But how can we do it?" Deryn wondered.

"That monster of a scientist Dr. Sullivan is extremely protective of his creation. He will certainly have the canister of Black Star that will be used during the demonstration on his person at all times. Before the demonstration, it is up to you and Alek to replace the Black Star canister with this." Dr. Barlow produced a metal cylindrical container from a drawer within her desk. "It's identical in every way, except the gas within is simply harmless vapor designed to appear the same as Black Star."

"How should we replace it without him realizing?" Alek inquired.

"I entrust this particular difficulty to you and Deryn," Dr. Barlow directed. "I have faith that you will find a way to succeed."

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Mary of Wales." Bovril enunciated out of the blue.

"That's right, Bovril!" Deryn interjected. "If we've changed the plans, then there's absolutely no barking reason for me to impersonate this lass!"

"On the contrary," Dr. Barlow corrected her, "it is still vastly important that you attend as Princess Mary. Not only is she expected, but once the demonstration fails, she can draw attention to how untrustworthy Red Star Chemicals truly is."

"All right." Deryn grudgingly agreed. "But this won't be enough to keep the Clankers from buying Black Star."

"True," Dr. Barlow granted. "But we need to buy time in order to collect more research. A failed demonstration will put Red Star Chemicals in an extremely difficult position-a position that requires time to escape. We will use that time to come up with a more permanent plan."

"Speaking of time," Volger interrupted, "We should be going."

Alek caught Deryn's gaze. She was still dazzling, but her expression was troubled. For a moment, he hesitated. He'd already embarrassed himself today when he'd gaped like an idiot at her. But that wasn't important. "I already said it, but I will say it once more. Deryn, you look lovely." He held out his hand. "Let me walk you downstairs."

Deryn smiled warmly at him, and put her gloved hand in his. "You look quite fetching yourself, your princeliness. Now let's go before this barking corset suffocates me."

"My," Dr. Barlow observed after the door had closed behind Deryn and Alek. "One so rarely sees a pair so smitten."

"Indeed," Count Volger agreed. "I must say, I am quite reminded of Princess Sophie when I look at her, in more ways than one." He sighed. "I was not surprised when Aleksander forswore his royal heritage. He chose love over power, just like his father did. Just like I advised him against."

"You don't look particularly displeased about it." Dr. Barlow mentioned.

The Count stroked his moustache thoughtfully. "I never said that I was."


	5. An Unlikely Adversary

**Chapter 5:  
"An Unlikely Adversary"**

 ** _July 27, 1915  
Dr. Sullivan's Private Villa_**

Deryn could practically _smell_ money the moment she walked inside.

The gala's venue was barking enormous- a ten acre private villa north of the Thames. It was several times larger than the Society, and somehow managed to be even more pompous and gaudy. Deryn felt inferior just looking at the place, and she was supposed to be a princess!

 _The princess would be used to that,_ she told herself. _The pampered lass probably wakes up in a four-poster bed to maids massaging her feet with a tray of scones at the ready._

So, instead of gawking at the marble columns and crystal chandeliers and golden moulding on the walls, Deryn stuck her nose in the air, accepted a glass of what she figured was champagne from a servant that looked as shell-shocked as she felt, and followed the other guests straight to the ballroom.

Dr. Barlow had informed them outside that it would look suspicious for the princess of Wales to be seen with someone affiliated with the Society, which meant Deryn had entered alone before the others.

"That ignorant nitwit Churchill and the Admiralty will surely be present, but they've never before met the Princess in person. After you introduce yourself to them, it's unlikely that they'll bother you," Dr. Barlow added. "After all, he believes that women are beneath him." She sighed. "I do prefer my parrot Winston. He may be utterly incompetent, but somehow he's far more charming."

Alek wished her good luck the moment before she stepped inside. "I've got the canister in my jacket," he reminded her. "Just watch for Sullivan and leave the rest to me." He smiled at her wryly. "After all, you're going to be the talk of the night."

"Don't be daft, Alek." Deryn shot back. "I doubt a princess could ever capture everyone's attention nearly as well as a chemical weapon."

Surely enough, Churchill greeted her the moment she stepped inside the ballroom. Deryn barely had time to take in the outrageous décor, jaunty music blaring from a band of musicians, or the frantic, expectant feeling that hung thick in the air as the guests waited for the night's main event to begin.

"Greetings, Your Highness." Churchill seemed to appear from nowhere. Deryn recognized him right away- his ruddy face and bulbous nose were hard to miss, and his showy Admiralty uniform gleamed with medals. He bowed curtly to Deryn, who nodded her head in return. "You look lovely." He complimented her stiffly. Deryn didn't blame him. She was sure she looked rigid herself in these bulky skirts.

"How kind of you to say so," Deryn chirped in her best British accent. "But I must compliment _you_ for the diligent work you've done to end this wretched war."

At this, Churchill chuckled snobbishly, as if she was a child suggesting that they should end the war by offering the Clankers sweets as a truce.

"All in the name of crown and country, of course. Please enjoy your evening, Your Highness. Forgive me, but I must excuse myself to attend some important matters." Without a word more he turned away and strode smugly away.

 _Aye, I'm sure that the table full of pastries where you're headed is the most important matter of the night,_ Deryn thought, but she was grateful that he'd left. Now she had the opportunity to search for Dr. Sullivan without distraction.

This would not be a particularly difficult task, she soon discovered, noticing a throng of guests in the center of the ballroom, holding drinks and chatting loudly. More than once she heard the boffin's name mentioned.

 _He's got to be over there,_ she thought, and made her way towards the crowd. Several guests approached her as she made her way over, but after a few quick words about her 'generous war efforts,' they let her be. Thrice she was asked to dance by different young gentlemen, and politely declined, apologizing and explaining to them that she had a weak constitution and didn't quite feel up to it. The only lad she'd even consider bothering to dance with tonight was Alek, and she wasn't even supposed to speak to him.

Finally, through the crowd she caught a glimpse of the man at the center of everyone's attention.

" _That's_ him? That _cannot_ be him." Deryn croaked under her breath. "Blisters, this might be easier than I thought."

...

Alek had been to a few elaborate soirees in his lifetime, but none seemed to be quite as boisterous as this one. The ballroom was alive with expectant chatter, and everyone seemed to be on edge, waiting for something to happen. Though there was a band blurting out some brassy, catchy tune, no one was bothering to dance. The guests were all far too worried they'd miss something if they didn't pay attention to what everyone else was doing.

Alek headed into the heart of the commotion straight away, sure that the doctor would be at the center of it. He could feel the canister of fake Black Star inside his jacket, pressing against his chest. He was a bit nervous that somebody would notice the bulge, but so far no one had paid a bit of attention to him.

Deryn, however, was having trouble avoiding attention. Alek had entered after she had, but he'd made far more ground. She seemed oblivious to it, but anyone who wasn't focused on the mob in the center of the room was staring straight at her. He supposed he wasn't being noticed because he was old news- everyone already knew all about the prince who had denounced his country and throne. A princess who'd never shown her face in high society before, though- _that_ was something worth talking about. And she looked stunning in that gown.

"Pardon me, excuse me," Alek muttered as he steered himself through the thick crowd of guests. He craned his neck back to see if he could catch a glimpse of Deryn- it looked as if someone was asking her to dance-and slammed straight into something.

Not something, he realized as soon as he jerked backwards and realized what he'd collided with, but some _one_.

"Pardon….me," he apologized, craning his neck to look up at the man he'd just rammed into.

The gentleman was intimidatingly tall. Alek felt dwarfish in comparison- he had to be at least two meters tall. He was also handsome in an extremely eccentric sort of way. The gentleman's hair, so fair that it was nearly white, tumbled unbridled down his shoulders in gentle waves. In the bronze light of evening, it seemed to emanate a soft silver glow. Alek was astonished- aside from his height, the prominent lines of his jaw, and the sharp angles of his face, Alek might have mistaken him for a woman.

Most noticeably of all, the man was carrying a silver briefcase at his side, and a bowler hat sat atop his head. _He must be Dr. Sullivan,_ Alek assured himself. _He's a scientist, and he's likely keeping the canisters of Black Star at his side in the briefcase, just like Dr. Barlow predicted._

"Not to worry," said the gentleman in a surprisingly gentle British accent. "I seem to be quite unscathed. On the other hand, you, Mr. Hohenberg, look as if you've seen a ghost."

"I'm just not particularly accustomed to such…festive environments," Alek admitted. He wasn't surprised that Sullivan knew his name. After all, he had invited Alek. "I must say I feel a touch out of place here."

"As do I," replied Sullivan. "But it is a necessary discomfort."

"Well, despite the circumstances, it is good to meet you, Dr. Sullivan," Alek offered his hand to the boffin.

Sullivan looked at the offering with something like a sly smile before taking Alek's hand in his own. "I must correct you, Mr. Hohenberg," he professed, "but I am not, in fact, Chester Sullivan. I'm what you could call his business partner. My name is Eliot Vost."

Alek hoped he was able to conceal his shock. _If this wasn't Sullivan, than where was the man?_ "It seems that I must apologize to you once more. I saw your hat and simply assumed you were Sullivan."

Eliot raised his eyebrows. "We are both scientists, but Chester prefers to do things a bit…differently. He refuses to wear his bowler hat in public, no matter how often I tell him he should." Alek's neck was beginning to get sore from craning upwards. "You are not the first to mistake me for him."

Eliot jerked his chin to his left. " _That_ is Chester. The one with the ridiculous patchwork jacket." He rubbed his face in agitation. "He's the richest man in the room next to Churchill and he still wears _that_ rubbish."

Surrounded by white-faced women prancing about like a flock of birds in their vibrantly colored dresses, the red-faced Dr. Chester Sullivan seemed to have nearly reached the punchline of an elaborate joke. The crowd around him was waiting expectantly, and a jubilant sort of tension clung to them.

He had the round face of a boy who had yet to lose his baby fat. He looked like a child with pink, plump cheeks and a smile wide as a clown's. Dr. Sullivan was indeed wearing a patchwork jacket, and there were so many squares of fabric on it that the original cloth was almost completely hidden.

"He's not what you expected, is he?" Eliot asked. "He may look like a fool, but he's downright brilliant. I may technically be running Red Star Chemicals, but it's his genius that created the company, and it's his genius that will win this war."


	6. Misplaced Trust

**Chapter 6:  
"Misplaced Trust"**

 ** _July 27, 1915  
Dr. Sullivan's Private Villa_**

Deryn was standing precariously on her tiptoes, trying to catch another glimpse of Sullivan through the crowd when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. "Ahem."

She whirled around to spot who'd spoken. She hated being snuck up on- if she weren't in disguise, she'd have given that lad a piece of her mind about how to get a lady's attention. But before she could say a word to the bum-rag who'd caught her off guard, he spoke again.

"Just one dance, Princess. Trust me- I am a _fantastic_ dancer." Without hesitation, his cunning dark eyes locked on hers and he took her gloved hand. Deryn opened her mouth to protest, but he'd already begun striding towards the empty dance floor, still holding her hand firmly.

"Wait! Slow down!" She ordered, nearly tripping over her skirts behind him. Blisters, if she weren't wearing these ridiculous skirts, she'd have been able to rip herself out of his grasp, but she was sure she'd create a spectacle if she tried to now. And besides, Deryn supposed, it _was_ expected of a princess to dance at least once.

"If you plan on dancing with me," she heaved, struggling for breath in this ridiculous dress, "you might at least give a lady your name."

He halted so abruptly that she bumped into him.

"Edward. My name is Edward." His dark eyes bore into her again. Deryn had to admit he was handsome. With his clean-cut good looks, thick dark hair, and those mesmerizing eyes, she supposed that she could have a worse dance partner. Of course, she could also have one without a conceited grin on his face, but that would be asking too much. After all, it seemed to Deryn that every guest at the party was a rich snob. Edward, on the other hand, seemed a bit scruffy. His clothes were plain, but he was grinning like he owned the place.

"It's a waltz. I do enjoy a good waltz," Edward proclaimed, and without a moment's warning he placed his hand on her waist and began swaying along to the music. They had plenty of room to dance- they were far from the swarm of guests surrounding Dr. Sullivan.

Luckily, Deryn was able to follow his lead without much trouble, although she wasn't nearly as good as he was. At least she hadn't stepped on his foot yet- although she'd like to, just to teach the arrogant lad some manners.

"So… so what brings you to this event?" Deryn asked hesitantly. She didn't know what else there was to discuss.

"I'm just here for the dancing," Edward announced. "I wasn't formally invited. I'm going to spin you now, Your Highness."

"What? Wait!" Deryn exclaimed, but it was already too late- without time to think about what she was doing, her body followed Edward's lead and she spun outwards and then back into his arms. She was a squick too close to him for comfort.

"Wow, Princess, you aren't half bad!" He chided. "I thought you were supposed to have a weak constitution."

"Don't…do…that…again…"she puffed. This blasted dress was so tight she felt like it was smothering her! "And I _do._ "

"Hm. Oh look, I've mussed up your hair." Edward noticed. He leaned forward and, to her surprise, gently brushed a strand out of her face.

"That was _very_ unnecessary!" She scolded, hoping that she wasn't blushing. She hoped Alek hadn't seen that- she'd die of embarrassment.

Just as she began to plan how she should wrench herself out of his grip and find a way to politely excuse herself, three things happened at once.

First, the chandeliers illuminating the ballroom went out, all at once, leaving it black as pitch. Second, the guests burst into terrified, excited chatter and commotion and the band silenced awkwardly.

Finally, a man's booming voice rang out from a balcony above the crowd.

"BE SILENT, SINNERS!"

The crowd's chatter was reduced to frantic whispering. _"What's happening?" "Is this the demonstration?" "Who is that?"_

"What's going on?" Deryn whispered to Edward. He said nothing, but squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I SHALL NOT REPEAT MYSELF. I DEMAND SILENCE!" The voice bellowed. This time the guests fell into an uncomfortable silence. Deryn craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the speaker, but it was impossible to see him in such complete darkness.

"YOU FOUL SINNERS GATHERED HERE TO WITNESS THE DISGUSTING FILTH THAT YOU CALL 'SCIENCE!"

"Barking spiders," muttered Deryn, forgetting her fake accent for a moment, "it's a Monkey Luddite!"

"I AM SPOKESPERSON FOR THE ROYAL ANIMAL LIBERATION BRIGADE, A BRANCH OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. I AM HERE TODAY TO SHOW ALL OF YOU BLASPHEMERS AND HEATHENS THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR FOUL DEEDS!"

"The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals?" Deryn whispered to Edward. "I thought their mandates were unrelated to fabrications!"

" _You're_ the only royalty here," Edward shot back. "I don't know a thing about them."

"This is utterly preposterous. Preposterous!" A man's voice rang out from the crowd. "We are at the pinnacle of modern discovery, and you are living in the past, you Monkey Luddite!"

A chorus of guests shouted in agreement, but were silenced instantly by a _BANG!_

The silence was quickly broken by a woman's high pitched screeching. "Walter? Walter! WALTER!" Deryn's heart lurched- was it his wife who was screaming? His friend?

"NOW YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS TO THOSE WHO DISRESPECT ME," the voice rang out menacingly.

"He's dead! Walter's dead! You killed him!" The woman's wails echoed painfully loudly through the hall. A few women shrieked, and the sound of frantic sobbing resonated in everyone's ears.

"This is bad," Edward said in a hushed voice. Deryn nodded, then realized he couldn't see her in such darkness.

"We have to do something to stop this." She agreed.

"That's not what I meant. I meant that we have to get you out of here to someplace safe." Edward yanked her wrist. "We're leaving, right now. You're in the most danger out of everyone else here."

"No I'm not! We can't just leave these people here!" Deryn whispered back.

"DO I HAVE EVERYONE'S ATTENTION NOW? GOOD." The man sounded amused. As if he were scolding an indignant child. It made Deryn feel ill. She'd seen men killed before in battle, but this… this was something different. An innocent man, not a soldier, had been murdered in cold blood.

"RED STAR CHEMICALS IS THE REASON YOU ARE HERE. A COMPANY THAT TORTURES ANIMALS AND MANIPULATES THEIR LIVES TO CREATE MONSTROSITIES."

"I'm not going to argue with you," Edward snapped in Deryn's ear. "You're in danger and we're leaving. _Now_."

Deryn hesitated, thinking of Alek. _Count Volger will be sure to protect him,_ she hoped, _and Edward is right. Even if I'm not actually royalty, no one else knows that. And besides, we could come up with a plan to help the others escape._ After a moment of hesitation, she followed Edward.

They were able to move undetected because they'd been in such a deserted area of the hall. Deryn wasn't surprised that they'd managed to slip into a side hallway without a single soul noticing.

"I can't see anything! Slow down!" Deryn hissed.

"There's no time for that!" he said without looking back, and kept going. Deryn lost track of where they were going in the darkness, though Edward seemed to be able to navigate his way through the maze of hallways well enough.

After they'd gone so far that they could no longer hear the booming echoes of the mysterious voice, they stopped. "Here's an empty room. Let's go inside," Edward suggested, holding the door open for her.

"Are you sure we should just leave those people back there?" Deryn wondered after heading inside.

"There's nothing we could do to help them," Edward assured her, stepping into the room behind her.

There was a soft click.

"Did…did you just lock the door?" Deryn asked cautiously. "Edward, why did you do that?"

Edward said nothing, and Deryn immediately knew something was wrong. She headed straight towards the door, but he blocked her path.

"I thought princesses were supposed to be smart," he sighed. "But you followed me alone into a dark room without so much as a thought for your own safety." He groaned, as if he was disappointed in her. "You offered your trust to me too easily."

Deryn took a step back, all too aware of how alone she was. This boy, she realized far too late, was dangerous. She remembered how he had grabbed her wrist and yanked her along so many times before- that hadn't been out of eagerness. He had _wanted_ to hurt her.

"Why did you bring me here?" She asked slowly, forcing herself to keep her voice steady.

"Why do you think, princess? I wanted to separate you from the crowd. My job was to get you all alone."

"Your…your _job?_ Who are you working for?" She asked. Was he with Sullivan? Had he known that she was in disguise, working for the Society?

"I'm one of those…well, _you_ would call me one of those Monkey Luddites. What I really am is a proud member of the Royal Animal Liberation Brigade."

"I thought you said you didn't know what that was," Deryn protested.

"I suppose I lied about that." Edward replied dryly.

"What does that have to do with me?" Deryn asked, hoping to keep the conversation going so she'd have more time to think of a plan. She had to find some way to get out of this, sooner rather than later.

"You'll find out, in due time." Edward's voice was closing in on her as he got closer and closer. "But right now, I don't have time to chat with you."

Deryn shot towards the door, pressing her shaking hands against the wood to find the knob, but it was too late. Edward wrapped one arm around her from behind and yanked her backwards, so her back was pressed against his chest. With his free hand, he pressed a damp cloth against her face. It smelled overwhelmingly of something syrupy and sweet.

Deryn held her breath, desperate to avoid breathing in any chemicals. She squirmed and kicked and rammed her head backwards into Edward's face. There was a crack as the back of her head collided with his nose, but his grip on her didn't budge.

"I'm sorry," he grunted, forcing the chemical-soaked rag against her face. "You weren't a bad dancer, you know."

Deryn cursed herself for being unable to hold her breath, and choked in a gasp of air that filled her nose and mouth with a horrific smell.

 _I have to find Alek,_ she thought as she felt her body grow numb. _I have to warn him_

She tried in vain to wrestle herself out of Edward's iron hold, but her arms and legs refused to listen to her. Her head felt like it was slowly filling with lead, and her body grew heavier and heavier, so heavy that she couldn't hold herself up any longer, and she collapsed against him completely.

 _No,_ she thought before falling into unconsciousness. _I haven't danced with Alek yet._

 _..._

" _This,_ " said Eliot Vost in a tone so sour it could curdle milk, "is a most inconvenient display of insanity."

Alek barely heard the man- he was too focused on trying to sort out the mayhem that had erupted out of nowhere in the last sixty seconds.

Alek had been dubiously wondering how anyone with any sort of scientific renown could wear a jacket as hideous as Dr. Sullivan's when the ballroom was immersed in darkness. He'd instantly imagined what Deryn would say: _"See, that's the trouble with all those machines. They malfunction, and suddenly everything's fallen to pieces at once. Glowworms would never go out like that. Barking Clankers and their silly contraptions!"_

And then some madman up on a balcony had begun an egotistical tirade without a moment to spare. Alek had to admit that he had his own qualms about the way Darwinists did things, but he'd never considered them to be _heathens._ What had Deryn called people who were religiously opposed to fabrications? _Monkey Luddites._

Then a man had been shot- most probably _killed_ \- and Alek finally grasped that this was far worse than just a madman's insane rantings. This was a message. A warning.

Above the crowd, the mysterious man continued his vehement speech. "TODAY, YOU HAVE ALL GATTHERED TO WITNESS THE REVOLTING, SINFUL WEAPON CREATED BY DOCTOR CHESTER SULLIVAN AND HIS LACKEYS AT RED STAR CHEMICALS."

This was also, Alek quite suddenly recognized, something more. "It's a diversion," he realized aloud.

"What did you just say?" Eliot demanded the instant the words had left Alek's lips.

"I've been taught enough military tactics to know that this is intended to attract attention," Alek explained in a whisper. He thought back to his endless lessons in strategy. "While the crowd is distracted, this… this _brigade_ is working covertly to accomplish their true objective."

"WE, THE PROUD AND RIGHTEOUS MEMBERS OF THE ANIMAL LIBERATION BRIGADE, CANNOT ALLOW SUCH TREACHERY. WE WILL NOT HESITATE TO STOP ANYONE WHO ATTEMPTS TO INTERFERE. AS WE HAVE ALREADY DEMONSTRATED. "

A woman, likely the same one that had called out the name of the man who had been shot, let out a howl of utter despair.

"But what could be their aim?" Alek wondered softly. Beside him, Eliot gasped.

"It's _Chester_! I have to get Chester to safety." Alek felt the enormous man shove something towards him. "I'm trusting you with this. I'll be back for it after I've taken care of my idiot colleague."

Alek bent down and felt the object that Eliot had thrust towards him. It was the briefcase. Eliot had given him the briefcase. Alek was tempted to open it, and was feeling its metallic surface for a clasp, when a thought suddenly crossed his mind.

What if Sullivan wasn't the only one who was in danger? This room was filled with wealthy, influential people. Perhaps more than one of the guests was at risk. But who? Who could possibly be so important that the Brigade would go so far?

 _A princess,_ Alek realized with horror. What better time to target someone who was almost never in public, someone who was almost always within the confines of the royal family's protection? This was the perfect, and perhaps _only_ , opportunity the Brigade had.

He had to warn Deryn. But first, he'd have to find her, and with total darkness and a crowd this thick, that would not be an easy task. It may not even be a possible task. Alek had to find another way to warn her.

He could call out some sort of warning, but he'd be putting himself in danger. After all, a man had been shot just for disagreeing aloud. Still though, Alek had a strange feeling that something about the man's death hadn't made sense.

How had the gunman been able to see him in such total darkness? There was no way even the best marksman would have been able to pinpoint the target just based on where the man's voice had come from, especially in such a large crowd.

Alek racked his brains for a solution. How had the correct man been shot so quickly? There was no way he could have been picked out from the crowd.

Suddenly an idea came to him. This was a diversion- a premeditated, _planned_ diversion. Maybe, just _maybe,_ the man hadn't been shot at all. Maybe his supposed 'death' had been nothing but a dramatic hoax. All it took was darkness, the sound of a gunshot and a screaming, grief-stricken wife, and anyone would believe he was dead.

Alek knew he could be wrong. There was a chance that somehow, by luck or incredible skill, the man had truly been shot and killed. But Alek's intuition told him otherwise, and he had to come up with a plan.

Slowly, as not to alert anyone around him that he was moving, Alek started pushing through the crowd. Fortunately, the briefcase was far lighter than he'd expected. What would Deryn do in this situation, if she weren't dressed up like a princess? She was rash and unpredictable, yes, but she was also a quick thinker capable of solving problems instinctually.

Maybe he couldn't stop this diversion, but he could do something else. If he could create chaos, he could interrupt it, and make it much more difficult for the Brigade to achieve their goal.

Alek kept pushing through the crowd as quietly as he could, trying to avoid as many people as possible. Fortunately for him, the guests were either so engrossed- or so terrified- by the strange man's disturbing speech that they didn't seem to notice him pushing past them.

When he'd finally emerged from the crowd, Alek raced towards the empty far side of the room, opposite the direction everyone was looking in. He remembered seeing elaborate draperies hanging from the walls in the corner of the ballroom. Holding his hands out in front of him, he strode forward for what felt like ages until he reached the wall, feeling the thick fabric beneath his fingers and the hardness of the stone wall behind them.

From his jacket pocket, right next to the canister of fake gas, he retrieved a small matchbook. He'd been saving them for Deryn, who he'd noticed reading by candlelight in her room back at the Society, but he figured this was more important. Fumbling in the darkness, he struck a match. It burst to life and then almost instantly fizzled out.

Alek huffed a sigh of irritation and then lit another. This time, the flame danced cheerfully upon the match's head. _Fantastic,_ he thought, and held it up against the draperies.

The cloth hadn't been cleaned in far too long, and the dusty fabric lit on fire as easily as driftwood. The tiny flame that had danced on the match's tip spread with a _WHOOOSH,_ and the draperies began burning brightly as flames eagerly devoured them.

Alek jumped backwards, coughing at the rancid scent of the smoke.

"The Brigade!" He shouted once he'd regained his breath. "They've started a fire! Get out now, before we all burn to death!"

As if released from a spell, the crowd burst into action. They no longer cared about the possibility of being shot- their fear of the fire greatly overpowered their fear of some buffoon's angry ranting. There was practically a stampede as the crowd scrambled towards the exit.

Alek spent a single moment searching the swarm of bodies for Deryn, but it was impossible to make anyone out, even with the glow of the fire.

Overhead, the Brigade's spokesperson kept on shouting, desperate to regain the crowd's attention, but Alek couldn't make out a word the man was saying over the throng's roar as he followed them outdoors.

The night's cold air was a blessed relief from the heat of the fire. Alek could not help but feel guilty. Someone could have been badly hurt thanks to him. Good fortune, however, seemed to be on his side, and he didn't see any injured among the people that had gathered outside the villa.

From the outside, there was no sign of fire. The draperies had been isolated, and, Alek hoped, too far from anything else flammable to set the whole building on fire. His jacket, however, hadn't escaped damage. The fabric had been ruined by the smoke.

"Of all the preposterous, absurd things that could have happened tonight, I suppose this is the most ridiculous," came Dr. Barlow's very agitated voice from behind him.

Alek turned to face her, and saw the Count at her side. He was wearing an expression so exasperated that even his mustache looked upset.

"Aleksander Hohenberg," he sighed, "please inform me what madness possessed you to set thirteenth century drapes aflame."

Alek smiled. "Perish the thought. Those flames were kindled by the Animal Liberation Brigade, not me."

"Ah, yes. And then someone with an Austrian accent identical to yours announced the fire." Volger mused.

Alek sighed, knowing there was no way to talk himself out of this. He explained the situation to the doctor and the Count, starting from the moment he'd met Eliot. As he described the story, the last few guests trickled from the entrance of the building. Alek didn't see Deryn among them.

"The Brigade has never been a threat before," Dr. Barlow contemplated when he'd finished. "Before now, they were nothing more than a group of protesters who committed a few minor crimes like picketing in restricted areas. But after the war began, they became obsolete. The rest of society realized how important fabrications were to the war effort, and the Brigade lost most of its support and was largely ignored."

"Well, they certainly got attention tonight." Volger pointed out.

Alek was about to add something when he noticed Eliot Vost's towering figure approaching. The man's expression was grim.

"I appreciate your assistance." He thanked Alek, but there was no gratitude in his voice. Alek held out the briefcase, and Eliot took it with a nod. Alek noticed a lock on the clasp just as it left his hands- he wouldn't have been able to open it if he'd tried.

"Did you find Dr. Sullivan?" Alek asked, hoping to ease the tension. The giant man shook his head.

"He's gone. Nowhere to be found." Eliot shook his head. "I searched the entire building, every room. There was only one man inside –Churchill. The fool was in the washroom the entire time. He didn't even realize anything had happened."

Alek felt dread creeping up his throat. "Wait… you searched everywhere?"

Eliot nodded. "I didn't find the bastard who was up on that balcony, and I didn't find Chester. Why? Is someone else missing?"

Alek nodded gravely. "Princess Mary," he said out loud, but that wasn't what he was thinking. _The girl I love is missing. The girl I love is nowhere to be found._


	7. Arguing With A Criminal

**Chapter 7:  
"Arguing With a Criminal"**

 __ _ **July 28, 1915  
Unknown Location**_

In her time aboard the Leviathan, Deryn had grown accustomed to a multitude of strange noises: the gurgles of Huxleys releasing hydrogen, the screeches of strafing hawks as their razor sharp talons tore through zeppelins, and the ferocious growls of Russian fighting bears hauling tonnes of cargo. None of these sounds had prepared her for the dreadful snores of Dr. Chester Sullivan. The man sounded as if he were trying to inhale bricks through his nostrils.

Deryn awoke on the floor in an empty room with her hands knotted tightly behind her back and a headache that instantly made her regret waking up. At least, she'd _thought_ the room was empty. When she heard the wheezing of the boffin, who was lying on the floor next to her, she believed he was dying. After she saw the rise and fall of his chest, though, she stopped worrying about him and started debating whether she should smack him awake.

She knew she was neck-deep in clart. Of all the villains in the world, she had to have been abducted by barking Monkey Luddites _._ _Insane_ Monkey Luddites. Of course, _all_ those fab-hating anti-Darwinists were bonkers, but she'd never seen any of them kill someone before. Just the thought of it made her feel ill- but maybe that was just her head pounding.

She struggled to her knees. It was nearly impossible to move in her constricting gown, and with the added bonus of bound hands, it took her nearly a minute to gather her bearings. Thankfully she was wearing gloves, or the coarse ropes would surely be chafing away the skin on her wrists. With a sigh, she surveyed the room around her, taking in any possible escape routes.

The room had no windows or furnishings, and there was nothing remarkable about it except for a single metal door, which appeared to have several complicated locking mechanisms. Deryn supposed that trying to open it would be more pointless than trying to teach an elephantine to do the tango.

She glanced at the doctor, still snoozing away as if all was right with the world. Perhaps he would know a wee bit more about what was happening, or where they were, or what _she_ had to do with some crew of heated Monkey Luddites.

"Doctor Sullivan," she whispered. If there were guards posted outside, she didn't want them to know she was awake. The boffin sighed contently and rolled over onto his back, revealing his pudgy belly. He was probably having the best dream of his life.

"Wake up," Deryn hissed a wee bit louder. Drool dripped from the corner of the renowned Dr. Chester Sullivan's mouth and puddled on the floor.

"Blisters," Deryn muttered, and inched closer to the boffin on her knees. She nudged him in the gut with the side of her left knee. He remained motionless. She groaned. This was just pure dead spectacular.

She was busy considering how things could possibly get any worse when the imposing steel door screeched open, revealing the deceitful, arrogant, backstabbing bum-rag Edward, who was wearing an extremely self-satisfied expression. Deryn noticed with pride that his nose was crooked and bruises had formed underneath his eyes. His nose must've broken when she'd smacked him with the back of her head. She hoped it still hurt.

Deryn resisted the urge to unleash a string of some very nasty curses. _Remember,_ she told herself, _you're a princess. Act like one._ So instead she shot him her most scathing glare.

Edward turned and closed the door behind him with a grating squeal. Deryn heard several locks click into place and cursed herself- she'd been so busy staring daggers at him that she'd missed her opportunity to run.

"If looks could kill, I'd be lying dead on the floor right about now." Edward chided with a grin.

"How unfortunate it is that they do not." Deryn replied stonily. "Now that the trivialities are out of the way, I demand that you tell me where I am and what you could possibly need with me."

Edward looked down at her and stifled a laugh. "You _demand_? Oh, you poor, idiot princess, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. You've been abducted. You're not the one who makes demands. We are."

"I may be your captive," Deryn answered, "but I will not be insulted, not by a criminal. And what do you mean by 'we'?"

Edward ignored her question and approached her, bending down as if he were speaking to a child. "Criminal me outsmarted you, didn't he? Little old me stole a dance from you, led you down a dark hallway, and seduced you in the time it takes me to tie my laces." His dark eyes gleamed mischievously.

"You did not _seduce_ me!" Deryn snapped, flustered. "I'd be more attracted to… to _him_ than I would ever be to you!" She pointed at the drooling Dr. Sullivan, who had yet to stir despite the shouting match taking place before him. "Ugh! It's no use to argue with a criminal anyhow."

"Huh," Edward quipped with an amused expression. "I expected someone of royal caliber to have a bit more…class."

"How _dare_ you speak to me of class after what you have done to me?" Deryn fumed. "You lied to me, drugged me, tied me up, and locked me in a room with no explanation at all!" Her cheeks flushed with anger. "You… you made me think that you were _kind_. You made me think that you wanted to help me, that you wanted nothing in return. I believed you, and you tricked me!"

Edward was silent for a moment. "Touché," he said finally. "I deny none of that. But I won't- no, I _can't-_ apologize for it. What I believe in, what the Animal Liberation Brigade stands for, is more important than your feelings. And mine."

Deryn sighed. "Did you come in here to gloat, is that it? Well, take it in. Here I am, Her Royal Highness Princess Mary of Wales, tied up and at your mercy. I thought you were supposed to be out saving poor helpless beasties from evil Darwinists, but instead you're here, reveling in your successful kidnapping. Congratulations."

She had no intention of acting like some daft damsel in distress just because she had been abducted. Deryn had got herself into this mess, trusting this boy, and she knew she was capable of getting herself out of it. She just needed an opportunity.

"I am not here to gloat," Edward said back, "although now that I have I'm quite glad that I did. You do know that you're downright insufferable, correct? Is all royalty like that, or is it just you?"

"I don't think I'll dignify that offense with a response." Deryn said aloud, but she instantly thought of Alek and had to suppress a smile. When she'd first met him, she'd thought him far worse than insufferable.

"Like I said, I came here for a reason." Edward continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I came here to give you a warning. A man is about to come into this room and explain the situation that you're in. He's a very powerful man, the leader of our brigade, and he is quick to anger. It would be in your best interests to speak to him with respect."

"I shall never respect a man who commits murder on a whim." Deryn vowed, remembering the wails of the woman who had watched her husband die.

"Well then you should _pretend_ to respect him. He isn't particularly fond of Darwinists, especially not royal female ones at that." Edward explained.

"What does my being female have anything to do with this?" She retorted. Edward sighed.

"You'll understand when you meet him. Just remember, don't speak to him the way you speak to me. For your own sake."

"And why, might I ask, do you care about my sake?" She asked pointedly.

"Well," Edward paused, as if racking his brains, "you're not a bad dancer." He smirked and glanced toward Dr. Sullivan, whose snores threatened to deafen the both of them.

"Good God," Edward muttered, "if the man weren't a scoundrel, I'd call for a doctor."

...

 ** _July 27, 1915  
Dr. Sullivan's Private Villa_**

Everything felt extraordinarily... _wrong_ to Alek ever since they'd left the villa. He, Dr. Barlow, and the Count had remained there for several hours after the evacuation, and Alek had re-entered to search for Deryn and Dr. Sullivan to no avail. To his surprise, even Volger had assisted him in the search- but it had been fruitless.

Eliot Vost had been right- the building was deserted. Not even the body of the man who had supposedly been shot and killed remained. Alek had expected to feel a sense of satisfaction- after all, the lack of a body had affirmed his suspicions- but all he felt was hollow.

It was Dr. Barlow who had finally convinced Alek that they should return to the Society.

"We can be of no help to Deryn if we stay here. I suspect her disappearance is related to this Animal Liberation Brigade. The best thing to do now would be to research this organization to discern their motives and location." She removed her bowler hat and smoothed her mussed hair with her opposite hand. "Aleksander, this is a disastrous situation. You cannot possibly place the blame on yourself. How could you have forseen this? None of us could have. Yesterday, none of us knew that the Animal Liberation Brigade existed."

Her tone was odd. Her usually robust voice was soft and low. He realized with some bewilderment that she sounded apologetic, as if she were trying to comfort him. Dr. Barlow must have felt a fair amount of guilt herself to be speaking to him so gently.

It was that moment that Alek realized how dire the situation truly was. Without further protest, he agreed to return to the Society.

No sooner than the moment they'd stepped into the grand entryway, Dr. Barlow was off. "I shall inform the royal family of the situation, and let them know that they should contact me should they receive any information or ransom regarding the Princess. Then the Count and I will investigate the intelligence files. I shall send a message lizard the moment we've discovered anything useful," she promised. "Aleksander, you should get some rest. It has been a long night." After a short moment of consideration, she added: "I'm suppose you have no intention of going to sleep. If you feel you must do something, check the historical archives- perhaps they might contain some useful information."

Count Volger gave Alek a stern look. "We both know Deryn Sharp. She's not the type to give in, as irritating as she may be. Wherever she is, whether she's an airman or a princess, _I_ trust that she is quite capable of taking care of herself. You should do the same. Worrying about her will accomplish nothing."

Without giving time for Alek to respond, the Count turned on his heel and followed Dr. Barlow upstairs.

Of course everything the Count said was true. After all, Deryn was stronger than Alek- she'd won enough arm wrestling contests to prove that. She could outrun him, outgun him, and she was clever. She wasn't some "ninny in a skirt," as he was sure she'd put it. Deryn would surely call him a _dumkopf_ and give him a well-deserved punch if she knew how terrified he was for her.

Alek took a deep breath and began heading for the archives.

He spent half an hour poring over a seven hundred page text about animal rights regulations before the the letters began to swim on the page and his head grew too heavy to hold up. He slept for a blissful five minutes until a message lizard scurried up the leg of his chair, startling him awake. Alek resisted the urge to leap out of the chair and run across the room. The small green lizards were harmless, but something about them still unsettled him.

"We've found something," chirped the lizard in Dr. Barlow's voice. Her voice was all business- back to normal, Alek supposed. He was glad. He'd have no idea how to speak to a worried, kindly Dr. Barlow. It would be far stranger than speaking to a message lizard. "Meet me in my office at once."

Alek took the stairs two at a time, and was sweating with exertion by the time he'd reached the doctor's quarters. He knocked once upon the imposing oak door, and without waiting for a reply, he let himself in.

Nora Barlow was sitting on her desk, rummaging through several files. Bovril was wearing her bowler hat, but the doctor didn't seem to mind. The Count stood nearby, intently staring at a black and white photograph. Neither of them had noticed Alek enter.

"Ah...Doctor Barlow? You said you found something?"

"Indeed," she confirmed. "The Animal Liberation Brigade _was_ a branch of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Just as their spokesperson said. However, they were expelled from the society's ranks six years ago as a result of their extremist views regarding fabrication."

"Extremists? What, were their views that were so terrible they were expelled?" Alek wondered, taking a seat in one of the chairs before the doctor's desk. He tried not to look at the empty one, where Deryn had sat just yesterday.

"They staged a protest when a new breed of Tigeresques was discovered and unveiled at private Darwinist event. Their 'nonviolent protest,' as they put it, involved killing and skinning the four month-old fabrication."

"What?" Alek asked, perplexed and shocked. "I thought they were against animal cruelty!"

The Count held up from the photo he had been examining. "This man- the leader of the Brigade- does not believe that fabrications are animals. He believes they are abominations. Sins against humanity. He has a flair for the dramatically grotesque."

"Who is he?" Alek wondered, gazing at the picture. The man captured within the frame appeared to be giving a speech. He held his arms out dramatically, revealing strong shoulders and muscular arms for a man of his age- about fifty, Alek guessed. His brow was furrowed and the corners of his mouth were pulled down in a permanent frown. A thin white scar stretched from his nose to his left ear- Alek realized with shock that the top half of his ear was missing completely. His dark eyes stared accusingly at Alek as if he blamed him for the injury. He looked as if he wanted to condemn his crowd.

"Unfortunately, none of our information states his name. We simply know him to be the leader of this brigade." Dr. Barlow explained.

"Did he lose his ear when he killed that tigeresque?" Alek asked.

"I haven't the faintest idea," answered Dr. Barlow, just as Volger said, "No."

The doctor turned to the Count for an explanation. He obliged. "This photograph was taken five years ago, but the scar tissue is old. Too old to have come from an incident that occurred a year before the photo was taken."

"I see," Dr. Barlow mused. "Perhaps something happened during his childhood that led him to despise fabrications."

"Whatever happened to him," Alek responded gravely, "it wasn't good. The man looks as if he's got a grudge. A grudge against the world."

"Well, he's certainly got a grudge against Dr. Sullivan. That was made clear at the gala. Perhaps we should start there." Suggested Dr. Barlow.

"Then I know what we need to do next," Alek agreed. "We need to get in touch with Red Star Chemicals. We need to speak with Eliot Vost."


	8. Moral Boundaries

**Chapter 8:  
"Moral Boundaries"**

 ** _July 28, 1915  
London Zoological Society_**

"Eliot Vost?" Asked Dr. Barlow, eyebrows raised. "I suppose that would not be an unwise alliance. It would be quite unorthodox, but perhaps that is exactly what we need right now. It wouldn't hurt to have surprise on our side."

Count Volger shot Alek a skeptical look. "You do not even know the name of our adversary yet," he declared, gesturing towards the photograph of the Brigade's scarred leader, "and you propose that we simply team up with Vost, a man who was our enemy _yesterday_? Aleksander, we cannot trust him."

"True," Alek agreed, "but that doesn't mean that we cannot make use of him or his resources." He pointed towards the photograph. "I doubt that the Brigade, an off-branch group of extremists, has enough wealth to compete with a company with profits like Red Star Chemicals has."

Dr. Barlow nodded thoughtfully. "Our interests certainly align. And more importantly, we have a common enemy."

"Indeed," Alek confirmed. "I saw how he reacted last night when he realized that Dr. Sullivan was in danger. He dropped his guard, trusted me completely, and risked his life to find his business partner. He truly cares for the doctor. I think their relationship goes further than just the company- they may be old friends." Alek turned to the Count, who still appeared doubtful. "We don't trust him," Alek continued, "but _he_ trusted me remarkably easily. We can use that trust. Not just to rescue Deryn."

Count Volger set the photograph on Dr. Barlow's desk, his expression thoughtful. "You're suggesting that we use his trust against him. We'll be partnering with him to find Deryn and Dr. Sullivan, but at the same time, we'll also be finding a way to stop the production of Black Star."

Alek nodded. "No doubt we'll have a far better chance at discovering the weapon's components from the inside. And once we know more about it, we can figure out a way to destroy it, or to stop its production permanently."

Bovril, who was still wearing the doctor's bowler hat, cocked his head. "The man does not comprehend the concept of moral boundaries!" The loris jabbered, its huge glassy eyes staring straight at Alek.

Alek wished he could disagree with the creature, but he knew in his gut that this was wrong. He _already_ felt guilt creeping up on him, welling up in his gut. This was wrong, he _knew_ it was wrong, and he was going to do it anyway, because that was what it would take to save Deryn and the countless other lives that Black Star was threatening to snuff out.

"It may not be particularly moral," Dr. Barlow divulged, "but taking advantage of Eliot Vost is our best option." With a flourish, she swept the bowler hat off of Bovril's head and set it atop her own. "Are we in agreement, then?"

She, Alek, and even the loris turned to the Count. He was peering curiously out the window.

"I don't suppose young Aleksander will change his mind. And, since we seem to be running short on time to come up with an alternative plan, I grudgingly concur."

"What do you mean, we're running short on time?" Dr. Barlow asked.

Volger turned to face them, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It seems that Mr. Vost had the same idea that we did." He pointed out the window with his thumb.

Alek stepped closer and peered down at the street. Far below, walking swiftly towards the Society's entrance, was an extremely tall figure that Alek instantly recognized.

"Vost is _here_?" Alek turned to Dr. Barlow. "Vost is here!"

"Ah, I see." She said calmly.

"Aren't you surprised?" Alek asked incredulously.

"Oh, quite." She confirmed. "I've simply made it a habit of mine to never appear so." She glanced towards Volger inquisitively.

The Count scowled. "I hope Vost can be of use to us. Our enemy is a formidable one. We do not even know the man's name. This man, whoever he is, lives a life of secrets."

Alek laughed humorlessly. He had spent years pretending not to be a prince and had seen Deryn lie her way into becoming an airman. For heaven's sake, Dr. Barlow worked for a society that only existed because of its innocent facade as a zoological organization! This man might be living covertly, but really, Alek could not think of one person he knew who didn't make a living on secrets.

...

 ** _July 28, 1915  
Unknown Location_**

Edward gave Deryn a stern look. "Of course you've never followed an order in your life, _princess_ , but if you listen to anything I say, listen to this: Do not stare at his face. Do not act surprised when you see his face. And for heaven's sake, _do not_ ask him about his face."

"Why would I-" Deryn began, but the words died in her throat as the sequence of locks on the metal door began shifting and clicking. Edward shot her a dark look. A warning. The old Deryn would have snorted at him, declared him a bum-rag, and taken this as an opportunity to escape. But _this_ Deryn, princess-in-disguise Deryn, lowered her eyes and looked at the floor to hide the rage and indignation burning in her eyes. If she was going to do this, she was going to have to be clever about it. Brute force would give her away faster than a hydrogen sniffer could wag its tail.

Then the door sprung open with such force that the hinges screeched, and the grating sound of metal grinding against metal instantly made Deryn's headache threaten to return. It was at this sound, however, that the elusive and Dr. Chester Sullivan finally awoke.

"Is it tea time already?" He asked with a pleasant lilt in his voice, yawning as if he'd spent the night in a posh feather bed surrounded with goose down pillows rather than tied up in an empty room, held captive by a mysterious coalition of rebels.

"I've had the most excellent dream." He announced, quite unfazed by his surroundings. _Aye, and here I am in the middle of a nightmare,_ Deryn thought.

"What a beautiful sight," Came an amused voice that Deryn instantly recognized. She snapped her neck up to see the man who had spoken, the man whose voice she clearly recognized as the one who had terrorized the crowd at the gala the night before.

His face was vicious- not because of the scar that stretched across it, pale and thin as lightning, or the chunk of missing ear, or even his dark, accusing eyes. It was his smile, stretching eerily wide, displaying all of his teeth. Deryn was instantly reminded of a Tigeresque's mercilessly sharp incisors at the sight of his grin. She didn't stare at his scarred cheek or mutilated ear, but she was completely unable to take her eyes off of that unforgiving mouth.

"A righteous day it is," the man continued, his smile widening still. "A murderer masquerading as a scientist and a pampered royal harlot, sprawled out on the dirty floor where they belong."

Deryn had to struggle to keep from laughing aloud- she'd been called many, many things before, but never a _harlot._ It was all a squick too ridiculous for her to take.

"If there's tea, I'd fancy a cup of Earl Grey," Sullivan announced to no one in particular as he struggled into a sitting position. His paunch was making it difficult for him to rise. "And of course a few biscuits would suit me just as well." He directed his gaze at Edward. "If you wouldn't mind fetching me and the lady a few, lad."

 _Is he a fool, or is he just stark raving mad?_ Deryn wondered incredulously, staring at the oblivious boffin as he smoothed down the front of his hideous patchwork jacket. _Could he possibly think that Edward is a servant?_ He turned to Deryn and gave her a toothy smile, his cheeks pink from effort. "I'm sure the tea will please you, darling, I've had it imported from France. Very expensive, yes, but exquisite enough to make up for it." He looked back at their captors. "Be quick with the tea and I'll allow you both the leftovers when we've finished."

He winked, as if this promise would inspire his captors with enthusiasm. Which it did not. It did, however, inspire the scarred man to brutally kick Sullivan's face so forcefully that the boffin toppled over and spat blood on the floor.

"You," said the man, his mouth a cruel slash across his face, "are welcome to address me as ' _sir.'_ To you, my name may as well be Sir. I am not your servant, but _you_ are most certainly my hostage. To me, your lives are worthless- no, they are _disgusting."_ He spat. "It pains me to see you both breathing. You are abominations, who don't deserve to draw breath any more than those horrific, blasphemous MONSTERS you've created!"

He lowered his voice so that it was barely louder than a whisper. "I have allowed you to live because the rest of your heathenous Darwinists are under the ludicrous impression that you both have value. Just because I need you as leverage, do not believe for a moment that I won't spare you pain. Disrespect me or insult me again and I will not hesitate to discipline you. Have faith that I shall _relish_ in the experience."

" _Relish_ ," muttered Sullivan thoughtfully, still sprawled out on the floor. A strand of saliva and blood hung from the corner of his mouth, but he didn't seem to notice. "I don't suppose that would go well with tea."

This earned him a barrage of ruthless blows from 'Sir', who kicked his stomach so unforgivingly hard that Sullivan vomited all over his patchwork jacket.

"Stop it!" Deryn shrieked. She'd kept herself from spitting curses when that bum-rag had delivered that degrading speech to them, but she couldn't stand to watch a defenseless man being beaten so cruelly. Even if that defenseless man was a nutty _dumpkof_ who manufactured poison.

The man shot her a glare dripping with hostility. Pointedly, he kicked Sullivan once more, and then he slowly approached Deryn. He knelt in front of her, so his scarred face was only a few centimeters away from her own. She did not avert her eyes- she stared brazenly into his.

"Did you just give me an order?" He asked coolly. Deryn briefly wondered if there was a correct way to answer this question. _Blisters, of course there isn't._ She looked down, breaking eye contact. She hoped this was a proper display of obedience. If he was so concerned about assuming his dominance, she might as well let him have it.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said as meekly as she could. "It just pains me to see someone suffer." _I'd love to see YOU suffer, though,_ she thought. She felt like a fraud. She felt _weak_. It took all her willpower to keep from headbutting this monster before her with all her might.

"Just as I thought," he sneered. "You answer like a pathetic, helpless _woman_. I despise the wills of women. Do you know why?" He paused, waiting for an answer.

"No, sir." Deryn choked out, her hands curled into fists. She was so furious she was shaking.

"They're passionless creatures. They cling helplessly to men, and even when they wish to defy a man, they always submit in the end. Their own ideas are so worthless that they don't even bother to stand up for themselves."

Very slowly, he reached and held the side of Deryn's face in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Her skin burned where he touched her.

"Women are spineless," he whispered close to her ear so that only she could hear. "And good for nothing but offering themselves to men."

"That isn't true." She vowed, her voice wavering. Every part of her yearned to explode with rage, to attack this man with all her might.

"Oh?" The man asked, and smiled unnervingly. "Prove it. Prove that you are not just a plaything."

This was her chance. She could let everything out, she could snarl and add a few extra scars to this madman's collection, she could rub it in his self-righteous face. _She_ could. She longed to. But the princess? She would never do such a thing. She would act with dignity, but she would also act with caution.

She looked down and said nothing.

"Exactly. You prove my point, princess. You are nothing- you may have been raised as royalty, but you are just another woman, destined to live beneath the heel of a man's' boot until he tires of you."

He slapped her face with the back of his hand. She did not resist. His ring sliced the skin on her cheek and she felt warm blood drip down the side of her face and trickle down her neck.

"You've dirtied my hand," he complained, and wiped his fingers on Deryn's skirts. "You should apologize."

"I apologize, sir." She said tonelessly.

"Of course you do," he agreed, and stood up.

"Edward." He said, and the boy instantly snapped to attention.

"Yes, sir?"

"Stand guard outside. I have better things to attend to." He shot Deryn and Dr. Sullivan a look of revulsion. "Inform me if they attempt to escape or do anything equally moronic."

He left without so much as another glance. The moment the door closed, Edward gave her a hard look.

"Are you all right?" He asked, which surprised her a little. Why should he be concerned? He hated them as much as that man had.

"It's Sullivan you should be asking." Deryn retorted coldly. Besides, she barely felt any pain. The shame hurt far worse than the blow had.


	9. Proof

**Chapter 9:  
"Proof"**

 ** _July 29, 1915  
London Zoological Society_**

Eliot Vost did not introduce himself. The moment he stepped into Dr. Barlow's office, he simply offered a nod and placed an envelope on the table wordlessly.

Alek immediately noted differences in the man's demeanor. His posture was poor, his suit wrinkled, his long fair hair uncombed. His unshaven face was vacant, devoid of all emotion. Instantly Alek wondered why he had the urge to study Vost so intently- was it out of genuine concern, or was he searching for weaknesses to exploit? Alek was troubled when he realized that he was unable to honestly discern the answer.

"Do sit down, sir," Dr. Barlow suggested cordially. Vost complied at once, taking the seat next to Alek. He was utterly unfazed by Bovril, who perched precariously on the desk's' edge and gazed at him with bulbous eyes.

"Might I ask why you've decided to call upon us this evening?" Dr. Barlow asked politely, although there was iron in her voice.

"I am not a fool, Dr. Nora Barlow. I came to the Society for several reasons, the first of which is obvious. Former prince of Austria, Aleksander Hohenberg, publicly announced his alliance with the Society some time ago and has been working closely with them since he renounced his throne. I came to speak with him. The less obvious reason is this: while I know little about the Society's true purpose, I am quite positive that it has more to do with political espionage than it does with zoos."

Dr. Barlow coughed. "I trust this is a tidbit of information that you are not inclined to share with the rest of Europe?"

Vost sighed with some agitation. "I already told you that I wasn't a fool. Have no fear, doctor, although Sullivan and I have known about the Society's facade for several months, we are the only ones within Red Star Chemicals that have even the slightest notion of the truth. I would stand to gain nothing by revealing your secrets."

The doctor straightened her bowler hat atop her head. "Excellent. Then I shall assume you are here to inquire about your partner's whereabouts?"

Eliot nodded. "I have little faith that you will be motivated to offer any sort of assistance, but I came nonetheless."

"Believe it or not, the Society's interests seem to coincide with your own." Count Volger interjected swiftly.

"Indeed," Dr. Barlow affirmed. "We believe that both Dr. Chester Sullivan and Princess Mary of Wales have been taken hostage by the very same organization that terrorized the gala hosted by Red Star Chemicals."

"The Animal Liberation Brigade." Alek clarified bitterly.

Eliot's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "They went so far as to abduct a princess? What madmen they must be!" He frowned, as if contemplating something. "But how do you know that they've captured her as well? _I_ received this last night. It was unmarked, with no postage stamp." He gestured to the envelope on the table before them.

"We are in connection with the royal family." Dr. Barlow nodded. "They informed me they received similar correspondence this morning, in an identical manner, informing them of the princess's capture."

"It contains no demands, no location, no information that could be useful. All it says is that my partner is the hostage of the Brigade, and I should expect further contact later." Vost faltered. "For all I know, he's long dead."

"We should form an alliance." Alek offered, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. "We both have much to gain from cooperation. We are in the exact same position. The Society has confidential information about the Brigade and its leader, and Red Star Chemicals has the resources necessary to apprehend the criminals if it should come to that." Alek locked his eyes on Vost's. "We have everything we need to ensure their safety if we ally."

Without a second's hesitation, Eliot nodded. "I have no objections. I'm willing to do anything it takes to retrieve Sullivan. Without him, our company has no value."

"I suppose we have an agreement," said Dr. Barlow.

"I suppose we do." Eliot Vost agreed.

"Then it's high time we proceed with some sort of plan," Aleksander began. "The first thing we need to know is if Sullivan and D-I mean, Sullivan and the princess, are alive."

"Asking for proof of life is a risk." Count Volger warned gravely.

"What do you mean?" Asked Alek.

The Count narrowed his eyes. "The man leading this Brigade is very clearly willing to go to extremes. That much was made clear at the gala. He is also impulsive and quick to anger, according to the other information we have about him. Any man who disregards orders from his superiors like he did must be. Demanding proof of life, or even asking for it, may enrage him. He likely believes that he is the only one in a position to give orders."

"Why does it matter if he is quick to anger? What could he possibly do? It's not as if he can kill his hostages. They're far too valuable. They're his only leverage." Eliot pointed out.

"That is true," the Count agreed, "but we have no guarantees that he will leave them unharmed. We have no means of contacting the Brigade yet, either. We cannot ask for proof of life if we do not know how to make contact."

Alek's throat tightened. If the man he'd seen in that photograph had been ruthless enough to murder infant fabrications simply for the effect, he would have no qualms about inflicting pain upon a girl.

 _Deryn is running out of time._ Alek realized with horror. How long would she be able to keep up her act as a princess? How long would it be before she said something out of character? Before her temper gave her away? Before she slipped and her Scottish accent revealed her upbringing? Alek imagined her calling her captor "a barking bum-rag without a squick of sense in his head." Alek knew Deryn. She was clever and strong, but she also could lack self-control. It would be impossible for _anyone_ to impersonate somebody else forever. For Deryn, though, it would only be a matter of time before she revealed herself.

And then what? Without the princess' identity, Deryn was worthless to the Brigade- and even worse, she was a liar. That was an instant death sentence.

"Alek? What is it?" Dr. Barlow asked with concern. "You look troubled."

"I was just thinking," Alek lied. "About how we could contact the Brigade."

"It's impossible," Vost said sourly. "We have no idea where they are!"

"That's true," said Alek slowly, "but perhaps we don't need to know that."

Dr. Barlow looked at him inquisitively. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

Alek sighed. "I suppose I'm going to have to rely upon an old...acquaintance. Dr. Barlow, could you by any chance get me the contact information of a Mr. Edward Malone?"

...

 ** _August 3, 1915  
Unknown Location_**

It had been seven days since their capture. They were fed moldy bread and lumpy gruel once a day, were escorted blindfolded by two guards to a revolting lavatory once in the morning and once in the evening, and had not once been given the opportunity to bathe. This did not particularly bother Deryn, who had spent plenty of time on an airship eating stale biscuits, using lavatories that smelled repugnant enough to make crewmen lose consciousness, surrounded by unwashed men. She expected Dr. Sullivan to be less than pleased with such treatment, but was surprised by his positive (or perhaps _insane_ ) attitude.

The brilliant doctor still seemed to believe that he was on vacationing in some sunny part of Spain. Despite the injuries he'd received on behalf of the man they were only allowed to refer to as 'sir,' his disposition was irritatingly sunny. He'd made a habit of asking Edward to 'hurry up with the tea' or 'fetch some light refreshments' every time the traitorous louse entered the room. Strangely enough, the bum-rag seemed to have taken pity on the doctor after his beating, and simply ignored his requests.

Deryn wished that Edward would do the same to her, but no matter how furiously she glared at him when he entered the room, he'd simply grin and try and carry on a conversation. The boy was pure dead persistent- she'd refused to answer a single one of his questions, looked anywhere in the room but at him, and even spat on his shoes, and _still_ he treated her like they were old friends.

Deryn knew that befriending one of her captors would make it far simpler to escape this rathole, but it was almost painful to bring herself to pretend as if she could tolerate Edward. Funny, it was easy for her to pretend to be a boy, and it wasn't terrible to pretend to be a princess, but somehow the hardest thing of all was to pretend that someone else didn't utterly disgust her.

 _Don't be daft,_ she'd finally had to tell herself. Edward was more than just one of her captors. He was also her best chance of escaping this place with her life. And Deryn was not one to let opportunities pass her by.

So, one morning, while Sullivan sat contentedly in a corner humming a lullaby to himself and drawing imaginary shapes on the floor, Deryn gave in.

"Why do you call yourself the Animal Liberation Brigade?" She asked Edward when he entered with their disappointing breakfasts.

Her question must have surprised him, because he nearly dropped the wooden bowls of gruel he was carrying. After meeting her eyes and realizing that she wasn't glaring at him with tremendous rage as usual, Edward recovered and set the bowls down on the floor- one in front of the humming doctor, and the other in front of Deryn.

"Because that is what we do. We liberate animals from the treachery and torture of Darwinist science." He answered with pride.

"Is that so? But I thought kidnapping innocent people was your specialty." Deryn replied, trying her best to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Edward simply smiled at her words.

"Innocent? Mary- may I call you Mary? I think I'll call you Mary. As I was saying, Mary, you are not innocent. You openly promote Darwinist sciences to the citizens of England. You promote archaic, _barbaric_ methods. Darwinism requires sacrifices. Natural animals, creatures that occur in nature, are sacrificed for their 'life strands' so that their genetics can be manipulated by scientists. They are forced to give up their lives of freedom. Though they are truly innocent, they are sentenced to live out their lives in laboratories, being put through tests by Darwinists who care more about the madness they call 'science' than the lives of the animals they destroy." Edward's steely expression hardened. "Those animals are put through hell, all in the name of science."

Deryn felt her temper rising. "That doesn't justify murdering a human! I remember that night at the gala. A man _died_ that night. He lost his life just for saying something he believed in!"

"So what you're saying, Mary, is that it was wrong to kill a living thing?" Edward asked pointedly.

"Yes! Yes, that is _exactly_ what I'm saying!" Deryn agreed.

"You say that, and yet you know exactly what fate awaits fabrications who have been bred to serve crown and country. You may live a sheltered life, Mary, but surely you know that there are creatures created by scientists whose only purpose is to die for the betterment of humans. They are created only to be killed, disposed of like their lives are worth _nothing_!"

Images flashed through Deryn's mind, clear as day. She saw flechette bats being horrendously torn apart by Clanker aircraft, wounded strafing hawks and message lizards falling miles to their deaths. A bleeding hydrogen sniffer lying motionless on the flank of the Leviathan, whimpering softly. A Huxley that was gruesomely burned to death, attacked by a Tesla Cannon. _Edward is right,_ she realized, feeling ill. _These creatures were expendable. They were bred to fight for humans, and died in the place of humans._

"I…" Deryn began, but she could not think of a single word to defend herself. She could not erase the haunting images that kept flashing through her mind. Bloody, defenseless beasties, all dead, all for her sake. For the sake of the Leviathan's crew.

"I didn't mean to make you cry!' Edward suddenly apologized, and Deryn realized that her cheeks were wet. She rubbed her eyes vigorously. "I suppose I was a bit harsh. Are you all right?"

Deryn momentarily forgot that she was a princess. "Aye, I'm fine. Just a squick tired, I suppose."

"What did you just say?" Edward inquired curiously. "I've never heard you speak like _that_ before!"

Deryn immediately felt her pulse quicken. "Oh dear, I suppose it just slipped out… I used to have a Scottish nanny, you see, and she used the strangest little phrases all the time. I was so little and I was with her so often that sometimes I find myself using them when I get upset."

"How strange!" Edward exclaimed. "I bet she had a marvelous collection of curses. Remember any of those?"

"Alas," said Deryn in her most regal tone, "it would be unladylike for me to say."

They were interrupted by the familiar sound of the metal door squealing in protest as it was forced open. Edward immediately jumped back and faced the door, putting a few meters of space between himself and Deryn.

The door opened so forcefully that it slammed against the wall and produced a CLANG so ear-splitting Deryn flinched.

When 'sir' stepped into the room, he was smiling. But it was quite clear to Deryn that something was not right. Each step he took was deliberate, slow, and calculated. His breathing was eerily level, and when he spoke, his voice was soft. He held a folded up newspaper so tightly that his knuckled were white.

Deryn's eyes were locked on him, but Sullivan remained in the corner, staring off into the distance as if the man wasn't there at all. _Good,_ she thought. _At least the dumkopf isn't asking for tea._

"I was enjoying a lovely morning. The birds were chirping, the sky was bright blue, not one cloud in sight, the paperboys were shouting out the headlines on every street corner. So, I thought why not? You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that _the both of you SINNERS_ were the front page headline!"

He threw the newspaper at Deryn's face. It smacked her jaw and landed face-up on the ground before her.

"Well? READ IT!" He ordered. Deryn obediently looked down at the front page article.

 _A Royal Abduction_

 _Yet another shocking tragedy struck the war ravaged Great Britain last week when the Royal Family was informed that Her Royal Highness Princess Mary of Wales had been taken hostage by The Animal Liberation Brigade, a mysterious anti-Darwinist terrorist organization. The abduction likely occurred during a gala that took place on the evening of July 26 in the residence of Dr. Charles Sullivan, one of the founding partners of the weapon manufacturing company Red Star Chemicals. The gala had been organized to showcase the company's latest invention: Black Star, a weaponized chemical gas. One of Sullivan's closest colleagues, Eliot Vost, also received correspondence from the Animal Liberation Brigade stating that Sullivan had been taken captive._

 _This appalling news has stunned and greatly distressed the people of Great Britain, many of whom look to the princess as a symbol of peace during this tremulous international conflict. Mary, the third child and only daughter of King George V, has visited many hospitals and welfare organizations in the hopes of comforting injured British servicemen and their families._

 _Little is known about the enigmatic Brigade, but according to guests of the gala from which the two victims were abducted, the organization stated that they were a branch of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, or RSPCA. When questioned about this statement, The Society disclosed only that the Animal Liberation Brigade was once a part of the RSPCA, but had been officially dissolved several years ago. However, they declined to reveal the reason for the Brigade's dissolution or comment any further upon the recent actions of the Brigade._

 _Guests also reported that the Brigade was opposed to Red Star Chemicals and their work, especially Black Star. An unidentified spokesperson from the Brigade made several religious accusations against Darwinist practices during a disturbing speech, in which he announced that fabrications were "abominations" and "monstrosities."_

 _The well-being of the Princess and Dr. Sullivan is currently unclear. It is for this reason that the Royal Family and Red Star Chemicals contacted this reporter, in the hopes that this article may reach the Animal Liberation Brigade. Their message to the Brigade is as follows:_

 _"We respectfully request that the Brigade provide proof that both Princess Mary and Dr. Chester Sullivan are alive and unharmed. After it is confirmed that the hostages are safe, we are willing to negotiate and comply to the demands of the Animal Liberation Brigade."_

 _Until further information about the whereabouts and health of the two captives is uncovered, England remains stricken with grief and uncertainty._

 _Eddie Malone  
New York World  
August 2, 1915_

Deryn instantly knew that this had been Alek's idea. Eddie owed him a favor after they'd saved his life, after all. And she was sure the American reporter would've been delighted to get such an exclusive story.

Sir stared down at Deryn, waiting for her to finish reading the article. The moment she looked up, she wished she hadn't. His smile was wider, showing all his teeth, and there was pure menace in his voice.

"They want proof. _Proof!_ As if they are the ones with hostages, as if _they_ are the ones with leverage! The fools! If they want proof, I suppose I shall just have to give it to them!"

He withdrew a hunting knife from inside his coat and approached Deryn, the shimmering blade pointed right at her. "What do you think, _princess_?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. "Do you think your little finger would do as proof? What about your ear, or your nose?"

He pressed the flat of the blade against Deryn's lips. "What about your pretty red lips? You won't be doing much kissing after that, will you, little harlot?" His gaze flickered upwards to her eyes. "Or perhaps I'll take one of _those_." He held the knifepoint a centimeter away from her eye. "I think that would be proof enough."


	10. Consequences

**Chapter 10:  
"Consequences"**

 ** _August 4, 1915  
London Zoological Society_**

Alek hadn't slept in days. The second he laid down his head and shut his eyes, images of Deryn filled his mind.

At first, she was always smiling. But her eyes were haunted and opaque, and when he looked into them he saw his own reflection. He saw his own disheveled hair, pallid skin, and bloodshot eyes. He looked miserable. Hopeless.

 _You left me there,_ Deryn breathed softly, in a voice wrought with despair. She was still smiling, but her eyes overflowed with tears. _I needed you, and you abandoned me._

Alek knew he was being ridiculous. Deryn would sooner attend a tea party and play with dolls than she would cry so openly. And if she knew just how much he was worrying about her, she'd shoot him a determined grin and order him to "Buck up, you _dumkopf._ We've survived bigger tangles than this one."

But still, sleep was impossible. And he wasn't about to waste another moment fretting uselessly over what he could not control. So he may as well do something reckless and brash. Something that Deryn would do.

Alek decided to investigate.

The glowworm lantern on the nightstand next to his bed had always made him cringe, and the thought of picking it up and carrying it around with him made him feel a bit ill, but Alek ignored his irrational cowardice and picked it up all the same.

The Society's halls seemed far more foreboding at night, when bronze sunlight wasn't filtering in through massive windowpanes. Though the glowworm chandeliers remained lit, they all produced an eerie greenish light that made the shadows seem to writhe in the corner of Alek's eyes.

But this was no time for unease. Morning would come soon, and snooping was much easier in the dark.

Eliot Vost had declined Dr. Barlow's offer to sleep in one of the Society's many guest rooms until his partner could be found, but he had left his overcoat in Dr. Barlow's office. It may not be much, but it was the only personal effect of his that Alek had.

Alek crept inside the office silently, closing the door behind him as gently as he could. Eliot's coat was draped over the back of one of the chairs. The black fabric looked sinister in the light of Alek's glowworm lantern.

He gingerly set the lantern on the desk and began digging through the coat pockets. There wasn't much inside- a few coins, a note bearing the Society's address that had been scrawled hastily in pen, and an oddly shaped key. Alek held it close to the lantern to examine it- it was larger than most keys he'd seen, and it was ornate as well. He couldn't possibly imagine what it might unlock. A door, a chest, a safebox?

He thought for a moment, and placed the note and coins back in the coat pockets. But he slipped the key into his own pocket. Whatever it might unlock, Alek was sure it had to be important. Why else would Vost carry it around with him?

Alek peered out the window into the night. The starlight was dim, and clouds made the moon look murky. He stared through the glass at the street below, rubbing the key between his fingers thoughtfully. Alek pondered the possibilities. Vost might notice the key was missing, but even if he did, why would he suspect Alek? Then again, he forgot his coat. He might not even realize it was missing.

Something moved in the street below. A boy, hands tucked in his pockets, strolling lazily towards the Society entrance. Alek didn't recognize him, but he was still suspicious. It wouldn't be light for at least two more hours. What business could he possibly have with the Society now?

The boy reached inside his coat and retrieved something. He was too far away for Alek to see his face or expression, but it was obvious that he was tense. The boy quickly looked side to side, as if scanning the street to see if anyone was watching him, and placed the object on the steps of the Society.

This was wrong. This was too odd. Alek knew the Society was involved with clandestine activity, but a competent informant would never leave something on the doorstep, where someone not affiliated with the Society could find it.

The old Alek, prince Aleksander, would have done nothing. He would not have concerned himself with such a trivial matter. He probably wouldn't even bother to tell a servant about it.

But this Alek snatched the glowworm lantern and raced out of Dr. Barlow's office, down the spiral staircase to the first floor, and out the entrance. He was out of breath by the time he was at the front steps, and he was sure the boy was long gone by now. There would be no point in chasing after him- Alek hadn't even waited to see which direction he had gone.

But there it was- the object that the mysterious boy had placed on the steps. A thick envelope, with something stuffed inside that was certainly not paper. As Alek bent to pick it up, he saw that there was something written on the label in thick black lettering. Just one word: _PROOF_.

Alek woke Volger immediately. He expected the Count to be irritated, but the moment Alek showed him the sealed envelope, he sprang out of bed.

"I shall fetch Dr. Barlow. Take that envelope to her office and wait for us there." Alek nodded, slightly amused by seeing Volger in stockings, and turned to leave. "Aleksander," the Count added in a serious tone. "Do _not_ open the envelope. Wait for us." Alek nodded- the Count rarely gave him such a straightforward order. This had to be important.

Alek had been waiting only a few minutes in Dr. Barlow's office before she and the Count stormed in. The doctor, barefoot and dressed in a long gray nightgown, seemed utterly unfazed by the entire situation.

"Well, Alek? Have you got it?" She inquired formally. Alek nodded, and gestured toward the desk where he'd placed it. For some reason he could not explain, he had felt a strange urge to set it down. It felt too dangerous for him to hold.

Dr. Barlow snatched it up immediately and examined the writing on the front. "When was this delivered?" She asked, peering at the word PROOF as if she expected it to change.

"I woke the Count as soon as I saw what it was. It couldn't have been that long ago." Alek replied.

"Very well then. We might a well see what's inside, then." Dr. Barlow tore the envelope's seal and dumped its contents on the desk before them in one smooth motion.

"Oh," she said very quietly, and placed a hand over her mouth.

Alek felt bile rise in the back of his throat. His gut churned and he nearly retched. Every one of his instincts was screaming at him to look away from that...that _thing_ on the desk. But he couldn't tear his eyes from it.

"This is a message." Count Volger claimed in a low voice.

"And not a good one," Alek agreed.

"No, Alek." Volger corrected. "It is an actual message. _That_ is… or at least, _was_ , a message lizard."

It was true. The creature on the desk before them _was_ a message lizard...but it had been horrifically mutilated. Its legs and tail were gone completely- they had been cut or ripped off. All the remained of the poor fabrication was the head and body.

And then it began to speak.

 _"_ _What do you think, princess?"_ The lizard rasped in a voice that Alek instantly recognized.

"It's him!" Alek exclaimed. "That's the man from the gala, the one who said he was from the Brigade!" Dr. Barlow and the Count looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

The lizard continued speaking in that gruff, dark voice. _"Do you think your little finger would do as proof? What about your ear, or your nose? What about your pretty red lips? You won't be doing much kissing after that, will you? Or perhaps I'll take one of those. I think that would be proof enough."_

Alek's knees buckled. His entire body felt frozen, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose. He wasn't even sure his heart was still beating. _"_ No _."_ He choked. _"_ NO.. _._ " Every muscle in his body stiffened.

 _"_ _Do not touch me, you snake."_ It was Deryn's voice. It was masked by her false British accent, but it was her voice all the same. Of course it was. Of course she would say that.

 _"_ _My, how unladylike of you,"_ the message lizard snarled in the man's gruff voice again. _"But I am a gentleman. So I will offer you a chance to save yourself a bit of pain."_

 _"_ _Is that…"_ Deryn's voice began, _"is that a message lizard? I thought the Brigade believed fabrications were abominations."_

 _"_ _It is! One of your Darwinist madmen played with its miniature brain a bit, so it's going to remember everything we're saying right now."_ The lizard replied in the man's gruff voice. _"And you, gentle princess, are going to cut off all of its tiny limbs to save your own."_

 _"_ _I will do no such thing!"_ The lizard snapped shrilly in Deryn's voice.

 _"_ _I am a generous man. I'm giving you an opportunity. I'm going to be quite insulted if you reject it."_

 _"_ _You can slice off all my fingers, cut off my ears, and snatch out my eyes, but you can never make me hurt that creature."_ Deryn's voice was firm, and held no trace of fear.

 _"_ _I can also make you wish you'd never been born,"_ the lizard rasped.

 _"_ _Rot in hell, you twisted bastard."_

The lizard produced a few muffled sounds, and then let out a high-pitched cry of pain in Deryn's voice. Alek clenched his fists.

 _"_ _I'd love to wring your neck, princess, but I haven't got the time this evening. Oh, and to whoever is listening, the fat moron is alive, too. I do hope this was proof enough. And now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to rip this little lizard's legs off."_

The lizard's maimed body shook violently for a moment, and then became still. Alek stared blankly at the corpse. Who could do this? Who would do this?

Deryn was alive. But she was also at the mercy of a monster.

...

 ** _August 4, 1915  
Unknown Location_**

Deryn was no fool. She knew that her time was running out. She'd acted like a barking _moron_ the day before when that twisted bum-rag had threatened her. No dainty posh princess had the term 'bastard' in her vocabulary, but Deryn, ninny that she was, had blurted it out without a single thought. The scoundrel had been so furious at her outburst that he'd knocked out one of her teeth.

After he had left, Edward wordlessly untied Deryn and the boffin, as if offering a silent apology, and gently helped Deryn sit up.

"You're bleeding," he said, sounding surprised.

"Of course I'm bleeding, that weasel practically took my barking head off" was what Deryn _wanted_ to say, but instead she just spat out a glob of saliva and blood.

Of course, the mad boffin she was imprisoned with was faring quite better than she was. Despite the fact that his life was in peril and he'd just watched a madman pluck the legs off a poor defenseless beastie, Sullivan seemed unable to grasp the severity of the situation. Shortly after their captor had stormed out, he'd removed his boots, put them on his hands, and had begun clapping cheerfully. Today, however, he had placed them next to him on the ground before him and seemed to be having a delightful tea party with them.

Deryn grudgingly admired his blissful ignorance. But then again, she'd likely have a much better shot at getting out of here with her life if she were trapped with a _sane_ scientist instead of one who had gone completely off his rocker.

"You are a total mess," Edward sighed, as if it were her fault. "I must admit, I never expected you would say something like that. I thought you were too _poised._ "

"I suppose everyone has their breaking point," Deryn replied, wiping blood off her chin with her thumb. "That man is needlessly cruel. It disgusts me." She glared at Edward, her suspicion rising. "Why are you helping me? Aren't you on his side? You work for him, after all."

Edward gave a wry grin- the same goofy smile he had displayed at the gala, the one that had made her agree to dance with him. "I don't suppose I really have much choice in the matter."

"Of course you have a choice!" Deryn argued. "You owe that man _nothing_. Just because you disagree with Darwinist science, just because your ideas align, that doesn't mean you have an obligation to follow him! You told me that you cared about animals, that you wanted to keep them from suffering. You saw what he did to that lizard. He _tortured_ it. Doesn't that go against everything you told me about wanting to protect animals?" Deryn silenced, rubbing her sore jaw.

"You say I don't owe him anything?" Edward laughed. "That I have a choice? You're wrong about that. It doesn't matter if I don't agree with his methods. I owe him my life."

"What?" Deryn asked with surprise.

Edward looked away, as if ashamed. "I can't say anything more." He retorted softly.

Deryn had to stop herself from snorting. It would be unladylike. "What's the harm in revealing your secret?" She asked, gesturing to the room around her. "Who would I tell? Him?" She pointed at Sullivan, who was scraping his wooden spoon against the wall with surprising ferocity.

"It's not that," Edward sighed abysmally. "Besides, it doesn't concern you. What _should_ concern you is the stench in here. It's bloody rotten." He crinkled his nose.

"Well, I don't suppose you could blame us for that? Believe me, I'd do just about anything for a bath." Deryn huffed.

"Look, you've even managed to get gunk on your face!" Edward reached out and rubbed his thumb against her hairline. It came away black. It wasn't dirt, Deryn realized, but the henna dye that had been used to darken her hair. It had only been meant to last a single night, and it had been in her hair more than a week. Her entire disguise was falling apart.

"The best I can get you is a bucket of cold water and a cloth," Edward said grudgingly. "But I suppose it's better than nothing." He made his way towards the door. "I'm not doing this for you. I just can't take your wretched stink anymore."

The enormous door groaned shut and Deryn heaved a sigh.

"I suppose it's just you and me. Again," she said. Sullivan continued scraping his spoon against the wall as if she'd said nothing.

"You don't make the best conversation partner," Deryn scoffed.

"How long do you expect your disguise to hold up?" Replied the doctor, still not looking at her.

Deryn paused. "What disguise?" She asked slowly.

"You've got to be the most ill-tempered princess I've ever heard of. And with a Scottish accent to boot. You're no more a princess than I am a madman." The boffin elaborated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Wait...you mean you're not...I don't understand!" Deryn garbled. "You… you like tea!"

"An astute observation indeed." Sullivan chuckled. "But we haven't the time to discuss it. This is our opportunity." He turned and offered Deryn his spoon.

"Our opportunity to eat porridge?" Deryn asked hesitantly.

"And you thought _I_ was the fool," Sullivan scoffed. "It's a weapon." It was only then that she noticed that the spoon's handle had been sharpened to a deadly point.

"You were...you were making a weapon?" Deryn asked, incredulous.

"What else could I have possibly been doing?" Sullivan asked, adjusting his jacket. "Now take it. We haven't got much time until that numbskull returns, and when he does, we'll need to act."

"Don't you need a weapon, too?" Deryn asked accepting the spoon.

Chester held up his bootlaces to provide an example. "Excellent for strangling."

Deryn nodded. "I'm not going to be much help in these clothes, so when he comes back you should get behind him and get those around his neck while he doesn't suspect anything. Then I can take his clothes and we can get out of this room." She sighed. "After that, well, we'll have to make it up as we go along."

"Very well," Sullivan agreed. "You don't seem particularly flustered by this situation, do you?"

Deryn rolled her eyes. "I used to be a barking fantastic airman. Not much surprises me, and I've got a mean punch."

Sullivan rubbed his bulbous belly and smiled. "I suppose we both had something up our sleeves, didn't we?"

"It would have been nice to know that you weren't stark raving mad," Deryn pointed out. "At least then we could have carried on a conversation. Or planned an escape before this."

"I would have done, really," Sullivan admitted, "but I didn't know that you weren't a princess until you just admitted it to me now. And quite honestly I was certain you would be of no help."

"Well then," Deryn grinned, "let's hope you're wrong about that."


	11. A Covert Affair

**Chapter 11:  
"A Covert Affair"**

 _ **August 4, 1915**_ ** _  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters_**

The Brigade's message could not have been clearer. _We have total control. We will go to extremes to achieve our objective, and if anyone tries to stop us, they'll have to pay in blood._

And it was Deryn's blood that would be spilt.

The moment the message lizard's body stilled, Dr. Barlow sprung into action. "I shall contact Vost at once and inform him of the situation. Alek, Volger, it is likely that the boy who delivered this message is long gone, but fetch one of the Society's automobiles and search for him. We cannot allow a single lead to slip through our grasp."

Several hours of searching for the messenger proved fruitless, however, and Alek and Volger returned with no more information than they had before they'd left.

When they returned, haggard and weary from lack of sleep, Dr. Barlow was dressed formally and instructed them to do the same. "We have received an invitation to Red Star Chemicals' research laboratories. Vost is there waiting for Aleksander and I. He has necessary equipment to inspect the message lizard. He and his scientists may be able to determine its prior location. The Count shall follow behind us and remain hidden, just in case he's needed. " She gave Alek a very pointed look. "This may be our singular opportunity to investigate within Red Star Chemicals itself," she began. "Aleksander, you are the least likely among us to draw suspicion. Vost trusts you. You _must_ take advantage of this situation if we are to discover anything noteworthy about Black Star. This must be a… a _covert_ affair."

Alek nodded grimly. "I understand, Dr. Barlow."

The Count watched wordlessly. Alek could not tell if his expression was one of disapproval or simply indifference.

While Red Star Chemicals was in possession of multiple production and manufacturing facilities scattered throughout Europe, its research laboratories and headquarters were located only forty miles outside of London. Though it took nearly two hours to reach by automobile, Alek still did not feel prepared when they had arrived.

Despite the guilt gnawing on him from inside, Alek could not allow himself to give in. It had been _his_ idea to deceive Eliot Vost and take advantage of his desperation. It had been _his_ strategy, a betrayal of _his_ design. He would not go back on his word.

Alek's father would have been sorely disappointed in him. He imagined what the Archduke would say- _Where is your honor, son? Did I not raise you to be a man of integrity?_

But Archduke Franz Ferdinand was long dead, and Alek had sacrificed the throne. He forfeit his nobility, and therefore, he had no obligation to live a life of dignity and honor. He had no princely duties to his country. Alek had been given a choice, and he had chosen to serve his own personal ideals rather than his country. And he did not regret it. He would make the same choice every time.

Alek didn't have to enjoy lying to Eliot Vost. But it had to be done, so he would do it. Even if it meant he had to reject his own morals and sell a shred of his soul.

Chester Sullivan's mansion had been enormous and luxurious, yet his company headquarters seemed oddly...underwhelming. They were the complete opposite of what Alek had been expecting. Instead of massive, imposing buildings constructed with with stately, expensive architectural design, these were unimpressive. A clump of several featureless, blocky gray buildings squatted low to the ground, enclosed by a tall barbed wire tipped fence.

The automobile halted abruptly at the gate. Alek leaned a bit so he could catch a glimpse of what was going on outside. A guard approached the driver's window. Alek studied the man carefully- his uniform seemed to imitate a military style. He appeared to have a gun holstered in his belt. Even the way he moved was austere. This was no inexperienced rookie. This guard was clearly a professional.

"The majority of the facility is underground," the guard explained to Dr. Barlow through the window after he verified her identification papers. "Drive through the main gate until the road ends and from there the guards will escort you into the lower levels of the building." He surveyed the passengers in the car. It must have been a coincidence that his eyes locked with Alek's as when said flatly, "be sure not to get lost."

Alek resisted the urge to look behind him. Volger had followed in an automobile of his own, but he'd hung back to avoid being seen at the gates.

Dr. Barlow and Alek were led by a trio of guards through the Red Star facility. Alek gave up on trying to memorize the maze of corridors they passed through on their way down the lower levels to meet with Eliot. There were far too many, and the guards escorting them kept an eye on them all. "The floors are numbered from top to bottom," one explained as they led the way down a bare white hallway. "So the lowest floor is the sixth floor, and the floor above that is the fifth." They turned a sharp corner that led to a narrow stairway. "The laboratories are all connected. There are five in all: Lab A, B, C, D, and E. Mr. Vost is waiting for you in C3. The third level of laboratory C." Alek paid close attention to the guard's description.

Eliot Vost greeted them with an expressionless nod and dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand. If he had seemed upset before at his partner's abduction, he was utterly distraught now. The fuzz on his chin suggested he hadn't shaved in several days and dark circles beneath his eyes were more prominent than they had been before. His shoulders slumped beneath his white laboratory coat, which was rumpled and stained- it was obvious he'd been working on something long before they'd arrived.

"You and your partner have quite a remarkable laboratory," Dr. Barlow said as a greeting. "It's quite large- how do you get around?"

Vost seemed uninspired by her compliment. "It's not particularly difficult. The laboratories are all connected on the fourth floor."

"My, it all seems quite confusing. Where would you possibly keep the animal subjects?" The doctor pressed on. Alek was grateful- she was asking these questions to be sure Alek didn't draw any unnecessary attention or suspicion to himself.

"All our live tests subjects are on the fifth level." Vost answered. "It's soundproof and there's a ventilation system that keeps the smell from permeating throughout the rest of the building. Speaking of animal subjects, have you got the message lizard?"

"Ah, yes. I must apologize for my small talk. It's an atrocious habit." The lady boffin produced the envelope that enclosed the small creature.

Vost examined the contents with a look of disgust and pity on his face. "You described that it had been mutilated, but...this is an abomination." His voice was shaking. "What madman would be capable of such cruelty?"

"We don't know. Yet. But if we can discover the location this message lizard was at before it was sent to us, we'll be able to hunt down that madman." Alek said firmly. "Have faith. This is our best chance."

"Right you are, Aleksander." Vost agreed. "So let us begin."

"Oh, dear, I seem to have forgotten something…." Dr. Barlow said, patting her pockets. "Yes, I wrote a note detailing the exact words the creature said. I must have left it up in our automobile. I do believe I remember the words quite well, but just in case...Alek, would you mind fetching it?"

"Nonsense! I'll have a guard bring it down." Eliot retorted.

"No, it's all right." Alek said quickly. "Truth be told, just looking at that poor mutilated creature makes me feel lightheaded. Actually, perhaps I am feeling...ill. I think I'd like some fresh air."

"Very well," Eliot agreed, offering a sympathetic smile that made Alek's guilt triple. "You are still young. I understand how overwhelming this situation must be for you."

 _You haven't the slightest idea,_ thought Alek as he stepped out into the hall. _I may be in over my head._

 _..._

 _ **August 4, 1915**_ ** _  
Unknown Location_**

Deryn felt immediate relief the moment she stripped off her sweat-soaked, grimy gown. The air on her bare skin felt absolutely _wondrous_ after spending so long trapped inside that cage of a dress. Without that barking corset constricting her lungs, she could finally breathe.

"There," she breathed, and kicked the dress away. She was standing only in her undergarments now. "That dress was pure dead _awful._ " Sullivan, gentleman that he was, was facing the opposite direction.

"Well, now I can easily say that I am certain that you are not a member of the royal family," he chided.

"Well, now we won't need to come up with a distraction when Edward comes in." Deryn explained. "The sight of a lass in her skivvies is sure to shock him."

"Not to mention that he's smitten with you," Sullivan commented, still averting his eyes. "He'll blush like a schoolboy when he sees you like that."

" _Smitten_ with me! That's a load of clart. I don't know much about romance, but even I know that it's a squick rude to abduct the lass you're keen on and lock her in a room for a week."

"What an impressive vocabulary you have," Sullivan noted dryly. "However did you contain it these past few days?"

"I practiced with a prince," Deryn said curtly as if that explained everything, when suddenly she heard the locking mechanisms begin to click. "Sh! I think he's outside."

Sullivan stepped to the side of the metal door so that Edward wouldn't notice him when he walked in.

It squeaked open so painfully slowly that Deryn felt a twinge of fear. Perhaps Edward realized that they'd been using him, that they had come up with a plan. Fortunately, this was not the case. Edward stepped inside, oblivious as ever, and didn't even notice Sullivan wedge his wooden spoon between the door and the frame to keep it from closing. A bucket in one hand and a towel in the other, Edward's expression bore no sign of suspicion.

"The best I could do was some cold water. Now you've got to be fast, or-"

He finally noticed Deryn's neglige. His eyes bugged out almost comically, and his face grew fiercely red. "Wha-" he spluttered, but before he could choke out another word, Sullivan had wrapped his bootlaces around the unfortunate boy's neck. Deryn brandished her wooden weapon as if it were a dagger.

"Take off your clothes," she ordered, remembering to switch back to her false British accent. She would keep up the royal facade as long as she possibly could, just in case the escape went south.

Edward's expression of utter confusion and surprise was particularly satisfying. He took a breath, as if about to say something, but Sullivan yanked the shoestrings tighter around his neck.

"I did not tell you to speak. I told you to take off your clothes." Deryn ordered, her voice humorless.

Edward almost imperceptibly shook his head no.

"I might be royalty, but I will not hesitate to jam this into your throat and take those clothes off your dead body," Deryn bluffed, waving her makeshift weapon. She had no remorse over threatening Edward, but she knew she would never stoop so low as to take his life.

Edward gave her a vicious glare as he kicked off his boots and slowly took off his trousers. Deryn simply smiled at him as she pulled them on. She was a bit taller than he was, so the legs were a bit short, but they would do. They were _miles_ better than that blasted gown had ever been. The boots were far too large- they would only hinder her. Deryn didn't bother to put them on, and left her feet bare.

"Now, the shirt." She continued. He unbuttoned it, his gaze vindictive. It was much too large for Deryn, but she rolled up the sleeves and tucked in the front. She looked fairly ridiculous, she was sure, but it was better than nothing. She was disappointed that Edward hadn't been carrying any weapons. They would have been useful.

Deryn gave Sullivan a sharp nod, and the man deftly pulled the bootlaces from around Edward's neck and used one to tie his hands behind his back and the other to secure his ankles together. For a man of Sullivan's size, his actions were impressively precise and quick. He used one of the bootlaces to secure Edward's ankles together, as well, and roughly shoved him to the ground. Deryn would be lying if she said didn't feel a twinge of guilt when he cried out.

"You can't leave me here like...like _this._ " Edward protested. "In nothing but my undershirt and briefs!"

"You could always try on my dress," Deryn suggested impishly. "Although I'm not quite sure it would be to your taste."

Edward's demands turned into pleas. "Please don't do this. I'm begging you not to do this." Deryn felt like laughing. All the bravado he'd flaunted when he'd abducted her at the gala, and he was already _begging_? Edward might have pretended to be a dauntless, dashing adventurer then, but it was nothing but an act.

"It's fitting, isn't it? Now _you're_ the one tied up and at the mercy of another."

Sullivan snorted. "I've never been one to enjoy poetic justice, but this is oddly gratifying."

Edward's reaction was immediate. "What? You...you're not... you're supposed to be insane!"

"And _you_ are supposed to be the captor, not the captive. Yet here we are." Sullivan mused. "How intriguing." Deryn had to admit that she agreed with Sullivan. "It's such a shame that we haven't got the time to relish in the moment." The boffin turned towards Deryn. "We must be on our way."

"NO!" Edward shouted, his eyes huge. " _Please,_ you can't do this. If _he_ finds me here, in such a shameful state, he might kill me. Or worse. I would be an embarrassment to him."

"I assume you mean your employer. Why would he care that you're such an incompetent weasel?" Sullivan asked.

Edward bit his lip and averted his gaze.

"Well?" Deryn asked.

Edward seemed to be working up the courage to speak. When he finally did, he didn't meet her eyes.

"He's more than my employer. He's...he's my father."

Sullivan was unmoved by Edward's confession. "We haven't the time for this nonsense," he said pointedly to Deryn. "We have to leave. _Now._ "

"It's not nonsense, I swear!" Edward urged. "You have to believe me!"

Deryn looked at him, hard. His dark hair and eyes, his narrow brow, his prominent chin. They _did_ bear a resemblance to the monster that led the Brigade.

"What's his name?" She asked.

Edward remained silent.

"Tell me what his name is, and we'll take you with us instead of just leaving you here," she offered. Sullivan gave her a hard look, but she held up her hand to stop him from speaking up.

"You swear you're not lying?" Edward asked.

"I swear it." Deryn promised.

"Damian. His name is Damian." Edward sighed.

"The surname?" Deryn probed.

'I'll tell you after you untie me."

Ignoring Sullivan's evil eye, Deryn untied the bootlace that bound Edward's wrists together.

"His name is Damian Smith. He had his last name changed before he begun his more... _radical_ work within the Brigade. I don't know what his surname was before he changed it."

"Do you recognize the name?" Deryn asked Sullivan. The man shook his head. "You cannot be serious about taking him with us." The boffin groaned.

"Not to worry." Deryn assured him, closing her hand into a fist. "I was lying."

Before Edward could even open his mouth, Deryn punched him. Edward was completely unprepared, and the blow laid him out flat on the floor. Deryn grinned.

"That was...surprisingly impressive.' Sullivan observed, staring at the unconscious Edward.

"He didn't seem like the type that could take a punch." She elaborated, retying the bootlace around Edward's wrists and fastening it with a square knot.

""We should gag him before we leave, just in case." She proposed.

Sullivan obliged by removing one of Edward's socks and stuffing it unceremoniously into the unfortunate boy's mouth. Deryn winced. _That_ was sure to be an unpleasant sensation. She had to admit, she didn't like lying to Edward. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone back on her word.

Then again, she couldn't remember the last time that someone had abducted her and locked her in a room for a week, either.

"I'd say he deserved that," Deryn remarked casually. "Now let's get out of here."


	12. Gorgon

**Chapter 12:  
"Gorgon"**

 _ **August 4, 1915**_ ** _  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters_**

Alek took a sharp left turn, returning to the staircase that descended down to the third level. Vost had let slip that animal subjects would be on the fifth floor, but he hadn't said which block. Alek doubted that he would find them in block C- Vost wasn't a particularly cautious man, but even _he_ had to be clever enough to keep from summoning visitors to a room a mere two floors above his most valuable research assets.

That left blocks A, B, D, and E. There was nothing for it- Alek would have to search the fifth floor of each laboratory to find what he needed. This process of elimination was a simple enough method, and it was the only plan he had. He'd just have to do it fast. Without hesitation, he headed down the staircase to the fourth floor.

Alek tried to ignore the doubts that were gnawing at his resolve. _Even if you find something, how could you possibly understand what it is, or how it works? And even if you manage to recognize something, what will you do about it? What_ can _you do about it?_

He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the fourth floor and saw that the corridors were labeled. One less thing to worry about. Fortunately, he also didn't notice any guards around. The complex was quiet. His own footsteps echoed unnervingly through the halls. It _was_ odd. This facility was enormous, and home to one of the largest chemical manufacturing companies in a world at war. Yet not a soul was in sight. Where were the employees? The scientists? Alek would have been satisfied at even the sight of a janitor.

But there was no one.

Alek ignored his feelings of unease as he approached the A block and started down the staircase to the fifth floor. It didn't matter that no one was here, he told himself. That made his snooping quite a lot simpler. He didn't have the luxury or time to fret about something he could not control or change.

He reached A5 and decided to put any thoughts of wariness out of his mind. He had better things to worry about. Not to mention that it was difficult to think of _anything_ with that horrific scent permeating the air. A mixture of dirty wet fur and dung. Alek felt filthy just breathing it in.

The first few rooms Alek explored seemed utterly harmless. Inside were several large microscopes, jars of fruit flies, and standard laboratory equipment like tongs, matches, and flasks of all different sizes. Meticulously organized, labeled bottles sat on shelves, with scientific manuals stacked neatly in place below.

Just when Alek had begun to think that nothing here was remotely interesting or important to his investigation, he entered the next room.

Metal mesh cages were bolted the walls, stacked on top of each other in towers. In here, the rancid smell was nearly unbearable. Alek choked involuntarily, his eyes watering, and held his nose. He was almost afraid to look at the creatures inside the cages, but was greeted with a mixture of relief and horror when he realized that they were nothing he hadn't seen before.

There was a cat in every cage. Black cats, tabby cats, kittens and even strange catlike creatures without any fur at all. They began to mew furiously when they noticed him, and Alek realized with horror just how deplorable their conditions were.

One enormously fat cat with silvery grey fur was so large that he was pressed painfully up against the side of his cage, the metal wire pressed into his skin. Another cat, small and brown, was crouching in the far back corner of its cage when Alek approached. It was clearly terrified of him, its tiny body trembling pitifully. A black cat was hissing fiercely, scrabbling with its claws at the cage door.

Alek had never been particularly fond of cats. He had never understood them, and had never seen the point of keeping one for company. But he was not devoid of compassion, and the sight of these poor animals astonished him. So many emotions consumed him- pity for these defenseless creatures, disgust at their revolting smell, and rage for the people who had allowed this to happen. Had _Vost_ known about this? It was his company, after all. Perhaps it had been his idea.

Alek wanted nothing more than to open every cage and let these poor beasts roam free, but he knew that doing something that reckless would sabotage is chances at uncovering the secrets Red Star Chemicals were hiding about their new lethal gas. But as he turned away, he felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry," he said softly as he approached one of the cages. Inside cowered a small grey kitten. Its tiny ears were perked up and its nose was pointed towards him, but Alek realized something was wrong with its eyes. He peered at it closely and saw that they were firmly shut. Was it blind?

Alek quickly returned to a room he'd been in earlier, and fetched a pair of wire cutters that he'd noticed sitting on a tabletop. He returned to the cage and carefully the side of the flimsy cage, creating an opening. With one hand, he reached in and gently picked up the blind kitten by the scruff of its neck.

It was so terrified it didn't even make a sound. Alek hesitantly pet the creature, running his fingers through its matted fur. The intelligent, rational part of him, the part of him that had urged him to keep his claim to the throne, told him to put the kitten back and be on his way. The rest of him, the spontaneous, rash parts of him that had sacrificed his nobility for Deryn, told him to rescue this creature from the hell that it had probably known all of its life.

Alek already had a habit of making rash decisions, so he didn't bother giving the matter any more thought. He gently eased the fuzzy creature into his jacket pocket and continued his exploration.

The rest of Block A was uninteresting, except for the purring in Alek's pocket, which he found oddly comforting. There was nothing here that had anything to do with Black Star. He doubled back to the fourth floor, this time following the signs to Block B.

Alek was somehow relieved when he found that the only creatures on floor B5 were a few moths buzzing around a lamp. This floor housed expensive equipment, most of which Alek didn't recognize and probably never would.

By the time Alek reached D5, he was sure that he wasn't going to find a single useful thing. Perhaps there wasn't even anything related to Black Star in the building. Maybe it was a secret project, housed in some concealed laboratory that no one but Sullivan had access to.

Either way, he was running out of time. He wasn't sure how many minutes had passed, but he did know that if he was gone for much longer, Vost would get suspicious, which Alek couldn't afford to let happen.

And then, finally, Alek found something.

The last room on floor D5 was filled with mice in glass cages. At first, Alek thought nothing of it. Perhaps they were being used to test chemicals, like he suspected the cats had been. But then he caught a glimpse of a paper label stuck to one of the glass cages.

In loopy handwriting, the label read: _Mus Musculus, age 130 days. Exposed to experimental Black Star chemical gas on 8/1/1915. Organ failure/solidification expected 8/1._

The mouse within the cage was clearly dead. It was also discolored- though the rest of the mice were white, this one was a dusky grey. Alek had a rising suspicion. Reluctantly, he removed the glass cage's top and reached in to touch the creature.

It was cold and hard. It wasn't merley stiff, either. Alek was sure of that. It felt like he had touched a rock. What had Dr. Barlow said about Black Star when she's first mentioned it?

 _Once inhaled, it forces the muscles to become extremely rigid. The entire body becomes immobile, and eventually internal organs shut down. It could take hours before death._ Alek shuddered as he recalled the last thing she'd said. _It would be akin to turning into stone._

He was suddenly reminded of his lessons in mythology. When Athena, goddess of war, entered her own temple and saw Poseidon, the god of the sea, ravishing a lovely maiden named Medusa, she grew furious with jealousy. Athena transformed the maiden Medusa into a monster with serpents for hair. Unsatisfied with that, she also made Medusa's face so gruesome that anyone who laid eyes upon her would turn to stone.

What had Athena called the hideous monster she'd made Medusa into? _Gorgon_.

Alek felt ill. So _this_ was the power of Black Star. And it was up to him to find a way to stop it.

…..

 _ **August 4, 1915**_ ** _  
Unknown Location_**

Deryn had expected that she and Sullivan would emerge stealthily into the hall, instantly approaching stone-faced, merciless guards armed to the teeth with dozens of lethal weapons. All right, perhaps that _was_ a tad melodramatic, but she expected one guard at least, dozing off at his post or picking his nose absentmindedly or whatever it was murderous, fab-hating anarchists did when they were bored.

She did not expect the hallway to be completely empty.

"Well that's just pure dead insulting," she muttered under her breath. "I mean, we weren't exactly seasoned combat veterans, but not even one guard? Could they possibly think us _that_ pathetic?"

"I'd simply say that we are lucky," Sullivan interjected. "Or perhaps this so-called 'brigade' has fewer members than we thought. Either way, we haven't time to dawdle."

"Where exactly are we headed?" Deryn asked. She hadn't a clue which direction they should go. Sullivan turned and looked both directions down the long corridor.

"Follow me," he instructed softly. "And stay quiet."

Deryn shook her head. "Aye, I'll stay quiet, but I should go first. Not to offend you, but if we come face-to-face with a guard, I think I may be slightly better equipped to handle him."

Sullivan nodded. "I cannot dissent. I have put on a bit of a paunch recently."

Deryn thought it best not to voice her opinion of _that_ preposterous understatement. She put her back to the wall, motioned for Sullivan to do the same (although his 'paunch' likely defeated the purpose) and began to slink forward slowly towards an open door at her right. It was slightly ajar, but she didn't hear anyone inside. Deryn held out a hand to signal Sullivan to stay put, and poked her head in. The room was blessedly empty. She waved a hand at Sullivan, directing him to follow, and entered.

It seemed to be an office- at least, if Deryn could ignore the enormous mess within. The grey-green wallpaper was peeling horribly. A mass of papers were scattered all about the floor, the desktop was completely covered in old letters and crumpled scraps of correspondence. The drawers were all open, revealing files and more papers inside.

All in all, it was a squick shoddy to say the least.

"Someone was looking for something in a hurry in here," Sullivan observed quietly.

"Did they find it?" Deryn inquired.

"How should I know?" Sullivan responded dolefully, beginning to rifle through some of the papers on the ground.

Deryn followed suit and went to examine the notes on the desk. She shot the boffin a sidelong glance. He didn't seem to notice. She had to wonder what sort of man he was. He'd pretended to be mad, after all. And he'd protected her, many times, distracting Damian with his insane antics to prevent the monster from attacking her. Chester Sullivan wasn't a coward, of that she was sure. The man wasn't a fool, either. He was clever- cunning, certainly. It had been _his_ idea to make a weapon from the porridge spoon. He had noticed Edward's weakness for her. Blisters, he had even planned their escape! He had done all this, and he didn't even know her real name.

And yet, she still had misgivings. This man- the one who had put himself in harm's' way to protect her- was also a merchant of death. He used defenseless animals to create and test chemical weapons. And these weapons didn't simply _kill_ men. Dr. Barlow had said that Black Star tortured them and mutilated their bodies. To Deryn, it was the epitome of cruelty. Not to mention the fact that if Britain didn't buy it, he'd planned to sell it to Germany! To the _enemy_! All for the sake of profit.

How could a man be both good and evil at the same time? It twisted Deryn's mind.

"What is it?" Sullivan asked, derailing her train of thought. "Have you found something?"

Deryn meant to say "No," but instead she said: "Why did you make Black Star?" The silence that followed was somewhat uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," Deryn apologized. "This isn't the time."

"No, it's all right," Sullivan answered, much to her surprise. "I suppose you believe me an atrocious bastard."

"No," Deryn protested, but Sullivan continued. "I cannot say that I am not a morally flawed person, but I do not think myself a murderer. I've created many chemical weapons. Red star, for example, the chlorine gas that made my company famous. But I created that weapon for a singular reason: I believe in preserving life."

Deryn crossed her arms. "That seems a bit...completely wrong to me."

Sullivan chuckled. "Yes, it does seem backwards now. But my logic behind it was this: if chemical gas, an unbeatable weapon, was used on the battlefield, it would scare soldiers out of their wits. Imagine it. If you were about to go up against something impossible to defeat, like gas, there'd be no point in fighting any longer. My partner, Vost, was a bit more concerned with the profit margins, but then again, he was always in charge of conducting Red Star Chemical's business endeavors. I simply invented the weapon, he did everything else. The marketing and the speaking with investors and such. But I never cared too much about the money. For me, it was preservation of life. The fewer unlucky souls died in this war, the better."

"So you thought that gas would make them surrender," Deryn mused. "I see. So the enemy surrenders, fewer lives are lost to the futility of war, and Britain wins. But it didn't exactly work out that way, did it?"

"Unfortunately not," the boffin sighed. "Red Star was not the unbeatable weapon that I had hoped. It damages the eyes and throat, but the effects are not instantaneous enough or remarkable enough to create the surrender I had hoped for. Death could occur as a result of asphyxiation, but that only took place after prolonged exposure. I needed a weapon that could incapacitate a man quickly, but would also terrify him."

"And what could be more terrifying than the notion of turning to stone?" Deryn asked dryly.

"Indeed," Sullivan agreed. "When I created Black Star, I was fully aware of the monster that I was making. Vost loved it too- the idea of turning a man to stone. Well, I shouldn't say that he loved it. More that he was intrigued by it, and he knew that a weapon so powerful would make Red Star Chemicals exceedingly wealthy."

"Because you could threaten to sell it to the Germans and raise the price," Deryn figured.

"Exactly." Sullivan agreed. "But… I had misgivings about the weapon. We tested it on live subjects- mice- and later I found out that Vost had arranged for a criminal sentenced to hang to be exposed to it. The mice, watching them suffer...it was awful. Watching that man suffer, though…" Sullivan's eyes looked haunted. "I shall never forget the screams of agony he cried, or the way his spine arched and his fingers and toes curled. It was as if he had seen the face of a Gorgon."

He looked at the floor. "The guilt of allowing one man to die such a horrific death was eating at me. And I knew then that I could not allow Black Star to be sold as a weapon of war. It would be too brutal. So I decided to host a gala."

Deryn frowned. "What? The gala was meant to demonstrate Black Star's effects, to convince buyers to pay up."

Sullivan smiled. "That was a ruse. In reality, I intended to announce to the crowd that Black Star was no longer for sale. Not only that, but that I would destroy my research. I planned on destroying every sample of the gas I had left. It was to be a rally towards peace."

Deryn was stunned. "You mean...that night you were going to…"

"Vost wasn't exactly _pleased_ with me, but he understood my position once I explained myself. I've known him for years- he isn't the type to value money over men's lives."

"But you never got to make your announcement," Deryn commented. "No one knows that you planned to destroy Black Star."

Sullivan smiled. "I should hope Vost made a public statement describing Red Star Chemical's plan to destroy the weapon, but I know him too well. He would have been utterly grief-stricken at my abduction. We are like brothers- we've been very close for years. Likely he's so out of sorts that he hasn't even shaved since the party."

Deryn looked down at the desktop. "I should not have judged you so quickly," she apologized.

"It's quite all right," Sullivan smiled, his round, boyish face friendly. "But we haven't the time for such apologies. Let's be on our way, if we aren't going to find anything useful in this room."

"Aye." She agreed, rummaging through the papers atop the desk and feeling a bit ashamed that she hadn't actually done any looking. She gazed at an envelope that had been torn open. It was impossible to determine what had been inside- there was so much clutter she didn't even bother. Not to mention that the paper was so old that it had turned yellow and felt like parchment between her fingers.

But it didn't matter much to her what was inside. What seemed more important was the man the envelope was addressed to.

"Sullivan, you've got to see this," Deryn murmured. Scrawled in messy, loopy handwriting, the name of the letter's sender and the return address were unreadably messy. But the name of the man the letter had been intended for was perfectly legible.

 _Damian Vost._


	13. Never Interrupt a Lady

**Chapter 13:  
"Never Interrupt a Lady"**

 _ **August 4, 1915**_ ** _  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters_**

There was no time for delicacy. After discovering the rodent's connection to Black Star, Alek tore apart the rest of the room in search of further information. Most of the other animal subjects in the room had met the same unfortunate fate as the first mouse he'd noticed- already long dead as a result of Black Star or another lethal chemical weapon.

Alek was not the sort of person to shed a tear over a dead mouse. He had, after all, been taught in his youth that mice were simply vermin, filthy and often diseased. But he did understand that that there was a noteworthy difference between mice dying in mousetraps and mice being slowly tortured to death by horrific poisons. These mice were being bred for the sole purpose of being used in experiments. And the sheer number of them was alarming.

He was beginning to fear that nothing else in the room would be even remotely helpful when he stumbled across a note attached to an empty glass cage- easily three times larger than the rest.

 _Specimen relocated to 7D. Further Black Star investigations will take place on level 7 in order to ensure discretion._

Alek read the note three times.

He was _certain_ that Vost hadn't mentioned anything about a seventh level- but then again, he supposed it made sense. There was no place better to conduct secret research than a floor that almost no one knew existed.

He closely examined the enclosure that had been empty. Why was it so much larger than the others? He could only think of one possible explanation: the animal that had been inside was no rodent. There wasn't time to speculate, however- Alek had been gone far too long. He needed to return to Dr. Barlow and Vost before the man grew suspicious.

Alek rushed to the stairs. Just to be sure, before he headed up to the fourth floor, he hastily checked to see if they led down further. They did not. If there was a clandestine level seven, it was not connected to the main laboratory building.

He had to catch his breath before entering C3. It would likely seem odd to if he were out of breath. After all, he had taken so long, the only possible explanation would be that he was tremendously lazy and been purposely wasting time to avoid returning.

"My apologies, Dr. Barlow," Alek remarked upon re-entering the lab. "I wasn't able to find your note."

Both she and Vost turned toward him at the interruption. Nora Barlow offered him an approving smile.

"No, it is I who must apologize, Aleksander," she replied. "I only realized a while after you left that I'd had the note in my coat pocket all along!" She held up a scrap of paper to illustrate. "You'd been searching pointlessly, I'm afraid. No wonder you were gone so long, you were searching fruitlessly for something that wasn't there in the first place!"

Alek breathed a sigh of relief. It was the perfect excuse for his long absence. "That's quite all right, Dr. Barlow. I needed the fresh air, anyhow. Were able to find anything?" He directed the question to Vost.

"Unfortunately, no." The enormous man answered, a hint of impatience in his voice. "I was sure we'd be able to ascertain something useful, but nothing came up." Alek couldn't help but feel sorry for him. His dearest friend had gone missing and the people who he thought were his allies were meddling about behind his back undetected.

It was at that moment that a very distinct 'mew' came from Alek's pocket.

"What is that, in your trousers?" Vost inquired. His voice was oddly menacing. His eyes were glued to the lump in Alek's pocket.

Alek mentally cursed himself. Of course he had been a sentimental fool to rescue that poor blind kitten! How could he _possibly_ explain himself?

"Oh, it's, ah-" Alek stumbled over his words, racking his brains to think of some plausible lie.

"Spit it out!" Vost ordered sharply, his voice raising to nearly a shout. Dr. Barlow didn't so much as bat an eye at his outburst. She simply met Alek's eyes and gave a deliberate nod. Alek was unsure what she mean- did she want him to admit the truth, or was she instructing him to lie?

He decided to do a bit of both. "I really must apologize, Mr. Vost. I got turned around on the fourth floor and ended up taking the wrong staircase." Alek confessed. "And then, when I arrived in one of your research labs, I was so intrigued that I couldn't help but look around. It was quite rude of me, I know, and greatly irresponsible."

The kitten nuzzled itself deeper into Alek's jacket pocket.

"Irresponsible? _Irresponsible_?" Vost sneered, glaring accusingly at Alek. "This laboratory is not a playpen, boy! There are any number of ways you could have disrupted _years_ of research while you were blundering about down there, having a merry old time and-" he abruptly silenced midsentence, as if realizing something.

"I'm sure it was an honest mistake," Dr. Barlow chimed in. "Alek has quite the knack for such-"

"Shut up." Vost said quietly. In one moment, he became eerily calm. His fists unclenched, the tension in his shoulders released, and his expression softened almost affectionately. He took an imposing step toward Alek, and inhaled a long, slow breath.

"How long have you known?" asked Vost.

There were few moments that rendered Aleksander silent, but this was one of them. Not a single word came to mind. He opened his mouth, only to shut it again. When he finally did speak, the only word he could muster was, "What?" He could not remember the last time he had been so confused. He looked to Dr. Barlow for some sort of explanation, but she offered no clarification. She simply reached into her coat breast pocket.

"Stop playing the fool. Answer the question." Vost commanded.

"I cannot tell you something that I do not know!" Alek insisted.

Vost's eyes grew cold, and his voice became menacing. "Do not lie to me again, boy, or I will make certain you regret it."

"I think not." There was a soft click behind him as Dr. Barlow cocked the hammer of the revolver that she was pointing at the back of Eliot Vost's head. "Never interrupt a lady," Dr. Barlow chided. "How boorish of you, Mr. Vost."

"You _dare-_ " began Vost, but he silenced when she pressed the barrel of the gun against his neck.

"I would much appreciate it if you would shut your mouth for the time being," she retorted.

"Dr. Barlow?" Alek asked incredulously, staring with disbelief at the weapon in her grasp. "What are you doing?"

"It should appear rather obvious, Aleksander. I'm threatening Mr. Vost's life with this handgun." Dr. Barlow replied, her tone as composed as it had ever been.

"Ah, yes, I can see that. But why, exactly, are you doing so?" Alek wondered.

"I do suppose an explanation would be prudent." Dr. Barlow admitted. "Where shall I begin?"

...

 _ **August 4, 1915**_ ** _  
Unknown Location_**

"Damian _Vost?_ " Sullivan snatched the envelope from Deryn's grip with such haste that it tore. "That's absurd. It's ludicrous. There's not a chance-" he read the name and let out a sigh. Then, as casually as if it had begun to rain on a sunny day, he set the paper down and said: "Well this is an unfortunate turn of events." He shut his eyes and began to massage his temples with his fingertips.

Deryn decided it would be best to refrain from commenting upon that rather peculiar understatement. "I'm a tad confused," she admitted instead. "I mean, Edward _did_ mention that Damian changed his last name, but how could he possibly have been related to your business partner? I mean, wouldn't you have known if the man you'd worked with for years had a relative that murdered fabs as a hobby?"

"I suspect that Eliot was purposely keeping that secret." Sullivan explained.

"I suppose I would too if I was related to a murderous psychopath." Deryn mused. "Is there a possibility that this could be a coincidence?" She asked doubtfully.

"The odds of this being nothing more than chance are…well, nearly impossible." Sullivan exhaled. "Although this is quite a perplexing situation. What could Eliot stand to gain by abducting his own partner?" He thoughtfully scratched his chin.

"You _did_ mention that Eliot wasn't exactly pleased when you told him you were planning on destroying Black Star." Deryn suggested. "I'd bet my boots that he wanted you out of the picture so he could sell the weapon as planned."

"You're not wearing boots." Sullivan observed flatly. Deryn chose to ignore this statement.

"What I _don't_ understand," she continued, "is what he needed a barking princess for."

"This has all been surprisingly informative," Sullivan declared, "but perhaps this isn't the right time to speculate."

"You're right," Deryn agreed. "We can argue about this crushing betrayal _after_ we escape the clutches of evil."

"Crushing betrayal?" Sullivan interjected. "Well, I do suppose my pride is wounded, but I wouldn't say that I'm _crushed_. Eliot and I were like brothers, but we weren't exactly the best of friends. In fact, I'm rather certain found me to be maddeningly irritating."

"How curious!" Deryn exclaimed sardonically. "Perhaps it has something to do with your little habit of pretending to be an imbecile!"

Sullivan acted as if he hadn't heard a word she'd said. "Perhaps it was inevitable." He mused. "I always suspected Eliot was jealous of my scientific genius, but I never would have guessed he would go to such extremes just because of such shallow resentment!"

Deryn held back a groan of annoyance. "We haven't got time for this nonsense. Blisters! If you keep on blathering, Damian's going to-"

"I wonder." Came an eerily familiar voice from behind her. "What would he do to such a sinful pair of heathens?"

" _Bloody_ _hell_ ," Sullivan cursed so fervently that Deryn would have been impressed if she hadn't finally realized who was standing behind her. Moving as quietly and slowly as possible, she retrieved a letter opener from the cluttered desktop and discretely hid it up her long shirt sleeve.

"Oh, it _will_ be bloody, I assure you," Sneered Damian. Before Deryn could put any distance between them, he reached out with a meaty hand and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her backwards.

Deryn's eyes watered but she refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out in pain. _At least this way I won't have to look at his hideous face,_ she reasoned, but this small victory was short-lived. He wrenched her hair again, this time tugging it so that she was forced to crane her neck up and stare directly at his vengeful grin, rotting teeth and all.

"You depraved vixen. You wanton, lustful _whore!_ "

Deryn was not particularly insulted. In fact, she was a bit confused. "To what are you referring?" She inquired, remembering her fake British accent.

Evidently this question was a mistake. Damian bared his teeth and pressed a blade against the base of her neck. "I am not a fool," he hissed. Specks of foul spittle sprayed Deryn's face. She resisted the urge to suggest that he take better care of his dental hygiene. "I heard your real accent earlier. You're no more a British princess than I am a donkey!" His expression was venomous. "I should slit your throat right now. You're of absolutely no use to me."

This Deryn couldn't disagree with.

"Wait!" Sullivan interrupted, holding up his hands to show that they were empty. "Yes, she might not be the princess, but that doesn't mean you have to kill her. If you let her go I swear that I shall return willingly to your custody. I won't attempt escape again if you set her free."

" _You_ will be returning to my custody regardless." Damian spat. "I'll chain you to the wall myself. Try to escape all you wish- you won't be going anywhere." He pressed the blade harder against Deryn's throat. " _She,_ however, will soon be on her way to hell. Wicked vixen."

"Sorry," Deryn asked, "But I've got to ask. Why do you keep calling me a vixen?"

Damian pulled her hair again, so roughly that Deryn gasped through gritted teeth at the pain. "Your lewd desire was so powerful that you _disrobed my son_!" He exclaimed furiously.

She almost burst into peals of laughter. "I just wanted a change of clothes! Believe me; I have absolutely no 'wicked desires' associated with Edward."

"SILENCE!" Damian bellowed sharply. "Do not offer me vile excuses, or you will regret it."

"What, will you threaten to cut off my lips again? Now _that_ was vile." She taunted. After she'd spent so much time sitting in silence, pretending to be a princess and allowing this brutish man to berate and humiliate her over and over again, Deryn was ready to burst. And, best of all, she literally had a weapon up her sleeve.

"You dare speak back to me, you _stupid_ female?" Damian roared.

"Stupid? _I'm_ not the one tied up half-naked in a cell, now am I?" She declared. "That's beyond stupidity. Why, it's barking idiotic." Damian's hand, the one holding the knife to her throat, shook with pure anger. "Tell me," she continued, "which side of the family did Edward get his brains from? Yours, or the monkey's?"

Since Deryn was pretty sure that a single word more would get her killed, she decided that this would be the perfect moment to act. Too quickly for Damian to notice, she let the letter opener slide down her sleeve until she was grasping the handle. She inhaled, preparing herself for action, and gave Sullivan the tiniest of nods.

Then, without warning, she drove the letter opener's blade into Damian's thigh, so deep she couldn't pull it back out, and bit down on his hand, causing him to drop his knife in shock and agony. She kicked his blade out of reach and slid from his grip before he realized he'd lost hold of her.

He let out a feral scream of rage and pain, instinctually grabbing at the blade wedged in his thigh.

"Let's go!" Deryn shouted at Sullivan, but she realized that she'd forgotten one tiny detail -Damian was standing right in front of the only doorway, and he was not about to budge.

Eyes blazing with hatred, Damian Vost ferociously ripped the letter opener out of his thigh and threw it at his feet. Deryn picked up the knife that he had threatened her with, but realized that it was going to be completely useless when she saw Damian reach inside his coat pocket.

He had a gun.

"Wait- you don't have to do this!" Sullivan cried out.

There was no response. For once, Damian didn't say anything at all. No scathing insults were delivered. He didn't tell Deryn that she was destined for hell, or that she and the rest of the Darwinists were heathens. He didn't threaten or intimidate. He didn't have to. There was nowhere left to run. There was no escape, not this time. He simply offered her a small, infuriating smile. He didn't have to say anything out loud, because Deryn knew exactly what he was thinking.

 _I win._

"Stop!" Sullivan pled, but it didn't matter, because before he'd choked out that single word, the trigger had been pulled, the gun had been fired, and there was a bullet inside Deryn.


	14. Mastermind

**Chapter 14:  
"Mastermind"**

 ** _August 4, 1915  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters_**

Perhaps it was just Alek's imagination, but Dr. Nora Barlow looked extremely comfortable holding a man at gunpoint. Her expression was smug, even. He'd known that she was a formidable scientist, and her involvement with the military meant that she was no pacifist, but Alek could not help feeling impressed and appalled at the steadiness with which she wielded her weapon.

"Alek," she began, "while this may seem like a peculiar place to begin, I'd like to start by asking _you_ something."

"Ah, of course," Alek agreed, pretending not to be confused.

"Excellent," Dr. Barlow enthused. Alek's eyes flicked to Eliot's face. It was blank. Totally expressionless. Either he was shocked by this baffling turn of events, or he was doing his best to give nothing away.

Alek suspected the latter. Vost would make an excellent poker player.

"Aleksander," Dr. Barlow began, "your account of the soiree from which Deryn and Sullivan were abducted was incredibly detailed. Would you do me the favor of repeating, step by step, what happened that night, starting with your meeting of Eliot Vost?"

Alek frowned. "Indeed, Dr. Barlow, although my memory may not be totally accurate. It has been a while."

"I have confidence in your abilities." She nodded. "Begin."

Alek sorted through his memories of that exhausting night. "I met Eliot Vost, but I thought he was Sullivan." He began. "Eliot quickly corrected me and pointed out Dr. Sullivan, he was just a few meters away. Then…ah, then the lights went out, and that madman on the balcony started screaming at everyone. I believed it was a diversion, so I left Vost and went to light those curtains on fire- no, wait. I skipped over something." Alek mentally retraced his steps.

"Before I left Vost, he gave me his briefcase. Then we split up." Alek corrected himself.

"Yes. And where did Vost say that he was going before you split up?" Dr. Barlow asked.

"He was worried about Sullivan," Alek recalled. "He seemed desperate to keep his partner safe."

"Very well. Continue," replied.

"We split up, he went to Sullivan, and I set the curtains on fire," Alek said slowly, "and then I ran into you. We left the building, met with Count Volger, and you asked me to tell you what motivated me to set the curtains aflame."

Alek frowned. He didn't see how explaining any of this was important now.

"Then the last of the guests and Eliot Vost came out of the villa." He continued.

"How much later did he leave the building? From the time we left the building to the time that he did. Estimate the time it took." Dr. Barlow ordered.

"Well," Alek thought, "I'd explained the entire situation to you, and we watched many of the guests come out, hoping to spot Deryn. I would say at least fifteen minutes passed before Mr. Vost exited. I returned his briefcase and we parted ways."

"Considering that the building was ablaze, doesn't fifteen minutes seem like a long, long time?" Dr. Barlow asked.

"Well, he was looking for Dr. Sullivan all throughout the building. He had to search every room," Alek replied.

Dr. Barlow raised her eyebrows. "According to your account, Sullivan was a mere few meters away from you both when the lights went out. Logically speaking, Vost could have reached Sullivan in a matter of seconds, long before you managed to set the place on fire."

"It was pitch dark, and crowded." Alek argued. "It was hard to go anywhere. And Sullivan had been surrounded by guests before the lights went out, so he'd have been particularly difficult to get to."

"Very well," Dr. Barlow asserted. "For argument's sake, let us say that Eliot Vost was unable to find his dear friend Dr. Sullivan before you began the fire. Isn't fifteen minutes too short of a time to search the entire building, especially a villa of that ridiculous size?"

"I…I suppose he could have been running, searching as quickly as he could. Especially since the place was on fire. It would make sense for Vost to have searched the place quickly." Alek concluded.

"Yes, of course you're correct." Dr. Barlow declared. "But wouldn't it be extremely difficult to search for someone in a fire? It would be extremely hot, not to mention the smoke everywhere. That fire might have been contained in the ballroom, but that smoke must have spread. Wouldn't it be difficult to run around looking for someone while you were breathing in such copious amounts of smoke?" She contended.

"I suppose you're correct," Alek agreed slowly.

"And yet, when he exited the building and came to meet with you, did you smell any smoke on him? Was he out of breath?" Dr. Barlow prodded.

"I can't be sure!" Alek cried. "There was smoke everywhere that night. Everything smelled like smoke. I started the fire, so _I_ smelled like smoke."

"Smoke that thick and black also leaves residue." Dr. Barlow added. "Do you remember black spots on your own clothing after you left the building?" She asked.

"Yes, I do." Alek nodded. "My jacket was ruined by the smoke."

"Yet, when Mr. Vost exited the building, did you notice any residue on _his_ clothing? In his fair hair?"

"I…I don't recall," Alek admitted. "It was dark out."

"Yes," Dr. Barlow agreed, "but even in the dark, you knew that your own jacket was ruined. And Vost was in that building, exposed to that smoke, far longer than you were. The black residue on his clothing would have been far more obvious. It would have been nearly impossible to miss."

"But I don't recall seeing any black on his clothing!" Alek repeated. "And why is this so important?"

"One more question, Alek. Did Vost seem out of breath to you?" Dr. Barlow asked.

"No, not that I remember." Alek answered. "Now please, why are these questions so important? I don't understand why going over that night's mishaps are significant _now_!""

"They are significant _now_ because it was that very night that I began to suspect Eliot Vost was far more involved with this crime than he let on."

"What? You suspected him the first time you met him?" Alek was aghast. "Why?"

Her expression hardened. "As I have made clear in this conversation, there are a number of inconsistencies with what you said happened that night and what the evidence showed."

"But there are _reasons_ for those inconsistencies. I told you, that night was complete madness!" Alek argued.

"As a scientist, I do not have the luxury of believing in coincidences." She elaborated. "Let me establish the facts that we know about that night. First, Eliot Vost was only a few meters away from Sullivan, and yet failed to save him. Next, he exited the building fifteen minutes after you. I distinctly remember that his clothing was clean. You recall that you did not notice any residue on his clothing either. He was not out of breath, despite his claim that he had run through a burning building and searched every single room in a mere fifteen minutes. Separately, these small inconsistencies mean nothing. Put them together, and they become highly improbable. Which means that it is extremely likely that at least one lie is involved."

"You think I lied?" Alek gasped, astonished.

"If that was the case, wouldn't I be holding _you_ at gunpoint instead of Mr. Vost?" Dr. Barlow asked dryly. "I think _he_ lied and I think you were gullible enough, or perhaps compassionate enough, to believe him."

"So what do you think happened that night, if Vost was lying?" Alek wondered.

"I cannot be certain," Dr. Barlow admitted, "but I have a hypothesis. I believe that Vost lied about not being able to find Sullivan. I believe that he found him right away, and told his partner that he was leading him to safety. Instead, he escorted Dr. Sullivan to a secluded area and delivered him straight into the kidnapper's clutches. Perhaps they had a conversation, or perhaps there was a scuffle, or perhaps it just took a while to convince Sullivan to come with him. By that time, the smoke had spread, so he hurried outside to find you in order to avoid suspicion."

"That is an outrageous accusation!" Vost finally snapped. "That is the most absurd-"

"Be silent." Dr. Barlow ordered, pressing the weapon harder against her captive's skull. "I'm not particularly fond of guns, and I would prefer not to use this. But if you open your mouth once more, I might lose my patience."

"I… but it doesn't make any sense!" Alek ranted. "If Vost was lying from the beginning, if he had been behind this scheme the entire time, why would he work with _us_ to help find the person responsible?"

"Isn't that painfully obvious?" Dr. Barlow sighed. "You are far too trusting, Alek. Vost wanted to work with us so that we did not become suspicious of _him._ Who is the last person you would generally find guilty of a crime? The person who is trying their hardest to solve it."

...

 ** _August 4, 1915  
Unknown Location_**

Deryn should not have been particularly surprised that she had just been shot. After all, she had been shamelessly provoking a mentally unstable criminal. Getting shot was only to be expected. But somehow, she was utterly shocked that he had actually barking _shot_ her.

She was more than just shocked. She was furious, but also terrified. She somehow felt calm and completely out of control all at once. She wasn't trembling. She wasn't screaming out in pain or collapsing to the floor in anguish or clutching the wound. In fact, she had no idea where the wound even was. Deryn felt nothing at all, just the blood boiling in her veins, pumping through her so fast it seemed like it was washing away all the pain she should have been experiencing. Her mind was whirling, scrambling, thinking everything at once, but her body felt strangely normal.

So she ignored her mind, and, like flicking off a switch, she decided that for the next few moments, she would not allow herself to be bothered by such minor trivialities as gunshot wounds.

Damian was saying something- he had to be, his mouth was moving and she could hear his voice but somehow she couldn't comprehend what he was saying. All she understood was that he looked particularly pleased with himself, and, because of this, he was vulnerable. He had lowered his gun so that it pointed straight at the floor.

Without hesitation, she marched forward, eyes locked on the weapon, and by the time Damian realized what was happening, just as the surprise registered on his face and he reacted by beginning to raise his weapon, it was too late. Deryn stepped to the side, avoiding his revolver completely, and snatched the weapon from his weak grip almost effortlessly. Without a second glance she tossed it aside and, gritting her teeth, she mercilessly brought her knee up hard between Damian's legs.

He howled like a beaten dog and bent over clutching himself. Deryn did not waste a second. She grabbed a fistful of hair from the back of his head and smashed her knee into his face. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Finally, he retaliated, grabbing hold of her leg and yanking it to the side just before she could knee him again.

Deryn lost her balance and fell backwards. Her back slammed against the old desk in the middle of the room, which was so old and rotten that it gave way and practically disentegrated beneath her weight. The wood on either side of her body made it impossible for her to use her arms to break her fall, so when Deryn landed, her head cracked against the floor.

 _Blisters_ , Deryn thought, she was bleeding quite a lot from just falling on a desk.

 _No, you dumkopf,_ the rational side of her corrected, _that blood is from your bullet wound._

And in that single moment, the pain that she had refused to feel returned.

Everything around her blurred in response to it. She forgot about the fight that she had been in the middle of, and she forgot Damian, and his gun, and where she was and why she was here. Her chest burned with pain, just between her right breast and shoulder. She wanted to press her hand against it, to make the bleeding stop, but her body refused to move. There was a sharp bang- another gunshot? It jarred Deryn into clarity.

A face loomed above hers. It was a blur, unrecognizable.

"Alek," Deryn croaked, hope rising within her.

"I am afraid not," said Chester Sullivan. His face jerked away from hers and blurred out of focus. "Take one step and I _will_ shoot you!" He shouted. "That first shot was a warning. The second won't be."

 _He took the gun while we were fighting and is threatening Damian,_ Deryn realized.

"I'm going to help you," Sullivan warned, looking down at Deryn. "It will hurt but please bear it. We need to leave this place at once and get you to a doctor."

"But _you_ are a doctor," Deryn mumbled dreamily.

"Not the sort that you need right now," Sullivan sighed.

"I can get up by myself," Deryn protested, leaning forward. Instantly she was overwhelmed by sharp pain and exhaled sharply.

"No you cannot," Sullivan observed flatly. "We do not have the luxury of time. I do not believe that your life is in terrible danger, since the bullet avoided vital organs, but this will get worse with time."

"I was just fine a moment ago!" Deryn protested.

" _That_ was because of adrenaline. And because you were too stubborn to let that man get away with shooting you without hitting him in the face at least once." Sullivan quipped. Without allowing her another moment to complain, he slid an arm beneath her and lifted her.

Deryn bit her lip to avoid crying out in pain but she could not suppress a moan. "That was pure dead horrible," she choked, clutching her wound. Even though she was leaning on Sullivan, at least she was on her own two feet again.

"I apologize." Sullivan replied. "Put your arm over my shoulder. You're taller than I am, so you can lean on me for support." Deryn nodded and did as she was told. She was surprised, however, when Sullivan offered her the gun. "I must admit I am a terrible shot. You need to stay conscious so you can shoot him if necessary."

Deryn nodded and gripped the gun tightly, pointing it forward at Damian. His nose was clearly broken, and his face was bloody, but he was still grinning like the maniac he was.

"Stay in front of us," Sullivan ordered sharply. "And lead us out of this hellhole."

"Do you honestly think that I would be threatened by the likes of _you_?" Damian sneered. "A fat, clumsy scientist and a wounded _girl_?"

Deryn bared her teeth in a grimace. "I would like nothing more than to shoot you right now," she said through clenched teeth, "so that is exactly what I'm going to do."

She aimed the gun at his right arm and pulled the trigger. She missed. She shot again.

This time, the bullet still grazed his arm.

Damian screamed out with rage and began to advance towards them, but stopped when he saw that Deryn was pointing the weapon right between his eyes. "The next one will hurt a lot more," she warned. "Blisters! I'm in such a terrible mood that I may even shoot you by accident if I sneeze!"

Sullivan nodded. "Turn around and lead us out of here," he demanded. "Put your hands in the air so that we can see them. If you move them, she will shoot you. If you start to run, she will shoot you. If you say anything, she'll shoot you. Do anything other than what I tell you to, and she _will_ shoot you."

With a snarl, Damian turned around and raised his hands.

"Now walk." Deryn snapped. "We are leaving."


	15. Bloody Reunion

**Chapter 15:  
"Bloody Reunion"**

 ** _August 4, 1915  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters_**

Alek could not deny that everything Dr. Barlow had said made perfect sense. Compared to her theory, his own assumptions seemed illogical. Idiotic, even.

"How could I have missed such obvious inconsistencies?" He wondered aloud. "I was fooled as easily as a child might have been!"

"Not to worry, Aleksander," Dr. Barlow reassured him. "The reason why you were tricked was because you had no reason to believe that Mr. Vost was anything but a decent man. I, on the other hand, am far too quick to point out the flaws in others. It's a bad habit of mine. Fortunately it also comes in handy at times like these."

"But why didn't you say anything earlier?" Alek asked.

"Well, I was planning to mention something or other, but then you brilliantly suggested that we ought to _use_ Eliot Vost as a resource in order to derail the production of Black Star. I could not allow that opportunity to pass, so I chose to conceal the truth about Vost for as long as possible, until you could find more information about the weapon. That way, I would be able to keep an eye on Vost and I would notice if he decided to make a move."

Dr. Barlow's gaze shifted from Alek to Eliot Vost, whose face remained utterly expressionless. He resembled a statue more than a man. "I suppose the jig is up now, for both of us." Her face hardened. "I am afraid I cannot allow this to continue any longer. I wasn't positive before, but now I am certain that you know the whereabouts of both the princess, and your colleague, Dr. Chester Sullivan."

Vost's lips curled back in a sneer. "I have no idea where they are! You are nothing but a madwoman! This is a travesty. I _demand_ -"

"Shush!" Alek ordered suddenly. "Do you hear that?" He whispered. "There's someone outside."

Sullivan and Dr. Barlow fell silent. Alek strained his ears and concentrated on the sound of footsteps in the hall outside.

"What _is_ this place?" A muffled male voice asked. "There are certainly a lot of stairs here…it appears to be some sort of…laboratory." There was a pause. "Good gracious, you certainly are heavier than you appear!"

A different voice answered the first. "Oh, I'm sorry, is this a wee bit uncomfortable for you, sir? Well at least _you're_ not walking with a bullet in your shoulder!"

Alek blanched. That voice… it couldn't possibly be who he thought it was…

"I swear, the second we get out of this barking place I'm going to kick that bum-rag Eliot Vost straight in the face!"

There was no denying it. It _had_ to be Deryn. Without wasting another second, Alek threw open the door and burst into the hallway. He collided face-first into someone and stumbled backwards.

The moment he looked up, he realized who it was. "The man from the picture," he breathed, instantly recognizing the leader of the Animal Liberation Brigade by the scar marring his face.

"Blisters, Alek, is that you?" Came Deryn's voice from behind the man.

Alek stepped around him and was suddenly face-to-face with her. An enormous feeling of warmth built up inside of him. It was really her! It was really Deryn, safe and alive and right there, in front of him! Relief washed over him like a flood so powerfully that he felt weak at the knees.

And then that relief was replaced with a paralyzing fear, as if his heart had been frozen solid in his chest. Finally he had noticed the blood. The amount of it was shocking- her front was soaked with it, the bright red a shocking contrast compared to the stark white of the walls and floor. Deryn's face was gaunt and pale, and although she was smiling at him, it was obvious that she was in pain. She was leaning heavily on a man Alek soon recognized as Sullivan, and it was clear that she was barely able to even stand on her own. He had never seen her weaker or more vulnerable, not even when she had confessed to Alek her father's violent, fiery death.

"What's wrong, your princeliness? You look like you've just seen a ghost!" Deryn teased in a breathy voice, but Alek instantly knew she was putting on a carefree attitude to try and hide just how badly she had been hurt.

"Who did this to you?" Alek demanded through gritted teeth. A rage blazing hotter and more intense than any he had ever felt before had replaced the fear that had frozen him. Fury was building within him so quickly that he could not keep it contained. So violent was his wrath that he was shaking, his hands clenched into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms.

This time, it was Sullivan who answered him. " _That_ bastard shot her." He jerked his chin towards the man Alek had just bumped into.

Alek waited for no more explanation before unleashing his anger. The scarred man didn't have time to react before Alek was on top of him, his fists connecting again and again with his face. There was suddenly nothing in the world that Alek desired more than to make this man feel pain- unbearable pain, the same pain that Alek had felt when he had seen Deryn covered in blood, doing her best to pretend to be unharmed for his own sake. Every single blow sent burning pain shooting through his knuckles, but it was nothing compared to the fire blazing in his chest. Every blow he landed, every crunch that resonated through his bones, satisfied him unspeakably.

"That's enough, Alek!"

It was as if Deryn's voice had severed the thread connecting Alek to his anger. Suddenly, it seemed utterly pointless to hit this man. He stopped, breathing heavily, incredulous at what he had just done. He looked at his hands. They were still shaking, his knuckles bloody.

Then he looked at the face of the man he had attacked. The man was unconscious, bruised, and bloody- but still breathing. Alek expected to feel satisfaction, or fulfillment, or even selfish pleasure, but all he felt was a strange and lonely guilt.

"I…Sorry." He stood and met Deryn's eyes. She looked utterly shocked. "I suppose I lost my temper a bit." He confessed.

Deryn snorted. "I'd say that's a bit of an understatement." Her face broke out into a smile. "But I can't say that I didn't enjoy seeing you punch that bum-rag."

"I can't say he didn't deserve that," Sullivan agreed. He frowned. "How did you find us, anyway?"

"Well…we didn't." Alek explained. "We came to Eliot Vost's laboratory to examine something. Wait- you two were in this laboratory the _whole time_? This is your company! How did you not know where you were?"

"I've never been to this laboratory before," Sullivan answered. "I perform all the work for Red Star Chemicals in my villa. It was Vost's idea to build this place for the company scientists to conduct independent research." He sighed. "I thought perhaps Vost was involved, but I was hoping that I was mistaken."

"Indeed he is involved," Alek answered. "He and Dr. Barlow are in there right now."

"Well, have I got something to say to him!" Sullivan fumed. "Actually, what are you, an ex-prince, and Dr. Nora Barlow, the renowned scientist, doing here with my scheming business partner?" Sullivan asked.

"Dr. Barlow is holding your colleague at gunpoint and I came here to search this place for a way to stop the production of Black Star chemical gas." Alek paused. "But what I can't understand is what the leader of the Animal Liberation Brigade has to do with this. What would he want with a princess and you?"

"His name is Damian Vost." Deryn answered. "He's probably… working…. with Eliot. I think…that I need…to lie down…" Her words began to slur and without warning, she swayed dangerously. She dropped something- Alek was a bit surprised to see that she'd been holding a gun. Sullivan grunted, obviously a bit overwhelmed. He looked haggard himself.

"Let me help." Alek went to Deryn's side and, as gently as he could, he helped Sullivan ease her slowly to the floor. Alek removed his jacket and placed it beneath her head to use as a pillow. The blind kitten leapt from the jacket pocket as soon as Alek placed it on the floor, and the creature curled up on the floor at Deryn's side, purring. Deryn did not even seem to notice.

"This is not good," Sullivan muttered under his breath. "Her breathing is very shallow and she should have stopped bleeding already." He made eye contact with Alek. "I need you to put pressure on the wound. I'm going to fetch Dr. Barlow and see what she can do."

"But we have to get her out of here, to a medical doctor!" Alek protested. "Dr. Barlow doesn't have the same training or skills!"

Sullivan's face was grim. "Dr. Barlow is our only chance now. If we leave, it will be too late by the time we get to a doctor. If she doesn't get help here and now then she will die."

...

Deryn might be lying helplessly on the floor covered in her own blood, but that didn't mean that her hearing was impaired.

"You know, Sullivan," she said weakly, "it's a wee bit rude to say that some unlucky lass is about to croak when she's right in front of you. You ought to have a bit more tact, you bum-rag."

"There'll be plenty of time for you to insult me to your heart's content _later_." Sullivan retorted. "For now you'd best conserve your energy."

"But-" Deryn began, but Sullivan shushed her.

"That means keep your mouth shut." He clarified. "Wasting your breath on snarky insults won't do anybody any good."

He's pure dead wrong about _that_ , Deryn thought. Nothing raised her spirits like some well-timed wit. But, considering the circumstances, she decided it might be better to shut her trap. If she _did_ end up croaking, she didn't want her last words to be 'bum-rag.'

"Bring Dr. Barlow then," Alek intervened. His firm voice startled Deryn- she couldn't recall ever hearing Alek sound so severe. "Deryn," he said softly, shifting his attention from Sullivan back to her, "I've got to put pressure on your wound now, all right?" He knelt down at her side, finally allowing Deryn to catch a glimpse of his expression.

She had expected his face to be grim, his mouth a firm line and his eyes intently focused on her wound. She expected Alek to be determined to conceal any sign of weakness. But she was wrong. Instead of solemnity, his face was pinched in fear and uncertainty. He didn't meet her eyes. Gingerly, Alek placed his hands over her wound. His touch was gentle, but Deryn noticed that his hands were shaking. He was barely even touching her.

"Alek," Deryn murmured quietly, and he jumped at the sound of her voice. "It's not going to do much good if you don't press down harder. You're not going to break me."

"Right," he answered, still not looking at her. When he _did_ apply pressure, it took everything inside Deryn not to shudder or call out in pain. Still, she kept her eyes on Alek. She was surprised to see that his lips were moving- he was repeating the same phrase over and over again under his breath.

" _Es tut mir leid. Es tut mir leid._ "

It was German. It took her a moment to remember what it meant, but when she finally realized it, it made her heart swell with sadness.

He was saying _I'm sorry._ Alek was apologizing over and over and over again.

Slowly, Deryn reached up and tenderly placed her hand on his cheek, turning his face so he had to look her in the eye. When she realized that there were tears in his eyes, she wished she had the strength to comfort him, to wrap her arms around him and let him rest his head on her shoulder.

But she couldn't even manage to sit up. So she settled for words. "Don't be sorry, you _dumkopf._ " She smiled at him.

"But this is _my_ fault!" Alek exclaimed, his cheeks flushed and his voice choked with emotion. "I should never have let you do something this dangerous! I should have stopped you from going into that party. I should have been able to find you sooner! If I had just done something… _anything_ …I could have kept you safe! I _should_ have kept you safe!"

Tears cascaded down his face, but with both hands on her wound, he couldn't wipe them away, so Deryn did it for him.

"Alek, you barking moron," she sighed. "When will you ever learn? If you'd have told me that I wasn't allowed to attend that party in disguise I would have done it anyway, just to spite you. It's not your job to keep me safe. If anything, _I_ should be the one protecting you! After all, I've proven over and over again that I'm the stronger of the both of us."

"But…" Alek continued, "but I had just been able to find you sooner, then maybe…"

"Oh, shut it Alek!" Deryn snapped. "Maybe I wouldn't have gotten shot. Or maybe _you_ would have, or Sullivan would have, or maybe we _all_ would have. This is just the way things turned out. Don't you dare underestimate me, ex-prince Aleksander of Hohenberg. If you think I'm weak enough to let a bullet kill me than clearly you don't know me very well at all! So just pull yourself together before I smack you!"

Finally, a smile broke through Alek's tear streaked face. "Deryn, you're the _dumkopf._ " He grinned. " _This_ is why I love you."

He bent down slowly, until his face was the only thing she could see, and then tenderly kissed her.

"I'm not entirely certain that _this_ is what Dr. Sullivan had in mind when he told you to watch over the patient." Dr. Barlow's amused voice broke the silence.

Alek jerked away from Deryn so quickly that he nearly collided with the lady boffin. Deryn laughed when she saw how red his face was- at least, she tried to laugh, but coughed painfully instead. Her chest burned like she had been stabbed with a hot poker.

"Aleksander," Dr. Barlow ordered calmly, "Take this gun and go point it at Eliot Vost. Shoot him if he does anything. Sullivan is doing the same to his rather sinister partner. Hurry up now, before one of them does something diabolical." Alek wiped his bloodstained hands on his jacket, accepted the weapon, and stood.

"Well then, let's have a look at this wound of yours," Dr. Barlow began. "You were shot, is that correct?" Deryn nodded. Normally, she would have come up with some sort of snarky reply, but somehow it all seemed like a waste of breath now. "All right then," the lady boffin continued, narrating what she was doing. "I brought a pair of scissors from the laboratory over there; right now I'm simply cutting a bit of your shirt off so I can get a better look at it." Her hands deftly wielded the scissors as she snipped away at the bloody fabric.

Deryn craned her neck and tried to focus on the boffin, but her face was blurring in and out of focus.

"Relax," Dr. Barow ordered, putting a hand on Deryn's forehead and pressed her head back down against the makeshift pillow Alek had left on the floor. "I want you keep your eyes open, but focus on keeping your breathing slow and steady." She placed both hands on the wound and began to apply pressure to it once again. Her hands were much firmer than Alek's had been- Deryn felt tears form in her eyes but blinked them away.

Dr. Barlow turned and faced the direction Alek had gone in. "One of you, fetch me alcohol and clean fabric. Bandages, if you can find them in that room. Be fast about it!"

"Are you…going to take the bullet out?" Deryn asked, hoping that her voice didn't reveal how much pain she was feeling.

"I do not think that would be for the best," the lady boffin answered evenly. "I'm not an expert, and I would likely do more damage attempting to remove it. I could push the bullet deeper inside of you or rupture a blood vessel if I made even the slightest mistake."

"So… what… _are_ you going to do?" Deryn inquired, doing her best to breathe deeply, but she couldn't help but take rapid, shallow breaths.

"Right now, the most important thing is to minimize blood loss. This is very important, so I need you to listen to me, Deryn. Your breathing is rapid, and your pulse is increasing, so it is very likely that you are beginning to go into shock due to blood loss. Try your best to take deep breaths, all right?"

"I don't….understand. What?" Deryn sputtered. Dr. Barlow's face was growing blurry, and her body was beginning to feel numb. Even though the boffin's hands were pressed against her injury, and the blood on her chest was warm, Deryn suddenly felt as if she were freezing.

"I'm cold," she stammered. "Why…why is it cold?" She shut her eyes- it felt nice to close them. It felt wonderful. She was so, so tired. Exhausted. She just needed to shut her eyes, just for a second…

"Deryn! Open your eyes this instant! I need you to stay awake!"

Her eyes snapped open. Dr. Barlow's face was too close- everything was too close. And Deryn felt like she was slipping away from it all- even though the she was so close, to Deryn, Dr. Barlow seemed miles away.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Readers, you may have noticed that I changed up the chapters a bit. Although there are now fewer, that doesn't mean I've deleted anything. I decided to do a little revising on spelling and grammar and also change up the formatting and put Alek and Deryn's perspectives back together again. (I know, I'm terribly wishy-washy) and I promise I will keep the format this way from now on. Hey, think of it this way: this means that each Wednesday, the chapters will be twice as long because they will feature both Alek's and Deryn's points of view! I apologize if this confuses any of you but don't worry, it shouldn't be too hard to get used to.**


	16. Final Betrayal

**Chapter 16:  
"Final Betrayal"**

 _ **August 4, 1915**_ ** _  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters_**

Alek had nearly recoiled in disgust when Dr. Barlow held out her revolver and told him to take it. He utterly _despised_ guns. But he knew better than to waste time pointlessly arguing. Not now, when Deryn's life was at stake and two dangerous men were in the next room.

So, Alek did what he was told without protest. He took the gun in his hand- he had been expecting it to feel cold, like ice against his skin, but the grip was still slightly warm from Dr. Barlow's palm. He thought it didn't feel as heavy as it should. He figured that anything capable of doing so much damage should weigh more.

Damian Vost- the man who Alek had pummeled minutes ago- sneered as soon as Alek reentered the laboratory. The man's face was a mess. Though it hadn't been particularly handsome at first, with a chunk of ear missing and a long, thin scar decorating his cheek, now it looked monstrous. The blood smeared on his face, his crooked nose and swelled left eye, combined with the hateful scowl he was making, made him look strangely primal. Primitive, but also ferocious and incapable of restraint.

The way that man was looking at him, Alek thought Damian would lunge for his throat at any second, whether he was armed or not.

"I'd take a few steps back from that one," Sullivan remarked. "That man's no stranger to violence, and if the look on his face is any indication of his bloodthirst I'd say he was rearing to murder you."

Damian spat a gob of bloody saliva at Alek's shoes.

Eliot Vost was the total opposite of his villainous counterpart. He stood, arms crossed, with impeccable posture, as if he couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge the situation at hand. His face was utterly blank and uncaring.

"By the way, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Hohenberg." Sullivan added cordially, as if they were meeting for tea instead of holding men at gunpoint. "I've heard quite a bit about you. Honestly, I'm a bit curious as to what the ex-prince of Austria and Dr. Nora Barlow, my scientific rival, have to do with this tangle of a situation, but I don't suppose we have the luxury of chatting about such matters at the moment."

Alek sighed. "It's a bit of a long story anyway." He longed to peek out the door to catch a glimpse of Deryn and see if she was all right, but decided it would be best not to take his eyes off Damian. "Besides, I'm a bit more curious as to why this man-" he gestured towards Damian- "is working with _your_ business partner. And why do they share a last name?"

"We're brothers." Damian sneered spitefully. "At least, we were before he _insisted_ that I change my last name. As if my sharing his last name dirtied it somehow."

For the first time since Dr. Barlow had drawn her weapon on him, Eliot Vost spoke.

 _"I have no idea who this man is!"_ He hissed. "Do not speak such ridiculous lies."

"Lies? _LIES? You_ are the one who is lying!" Damian shot back. "You promised me riches. You promised me _support._ You promised me that the Brigade would rise victorious, that our ideals would grow to be respected and that those revolting _fabrications,_ those disgusting freaks of nature, would be put out of their misery! We made a _deal._ I get your idiotic business partner and some bloody princess out of your way so you can develop that weapon of yours and sell it to the highest bidder. Then we split the money and I can finally rebuild the Brigade that I spent my _entire_ _life_ creating."

Eliot grew visibly more agitated as his brother continued, his lips curling downward and his body tensing. "I don't know what he's going on about," he jeered. "This man is obviously spouting nonsense."

Damian's hands curled in his fury, like bony claws. "I'm not the one who's spouting nonsense! You have done _everything_ wrong! You abduct the _wrong_ girl, bring these fools here, the very place you were supposed to keep them away from, and turn your back on me the second your plan begins to unravel."

Damian Vost's face was a mask of wrath. Looking at the man's bared teeth, Alek was unable to imagine anything but a savage wolf's jaws- fiercely strong and unforgiving. In contrast, his brother's face was stone-cold. Only his eyes, glaring sharply like chips of steel, revealed any emotion.

Dr. Barlow's voice pierced through the tense silence from the hall. "One of you, fetch me alcohol and clean fabric. Bandages, if you can find them in that room. Be fast about it!"

Sullivan turned his head towards the door, where her voice had come from. Too late Alek he realized it had been a mistake for the doctor to take his eyes off Eliot. Before Alek could shout a warning to Sullivan, Eliot Vost had already sprung into action, lunging for the gun in Sullivan's grasp.

Dr. Chester Sullivan might have been a certified scientific genius, but he was physically no match for a giant of a man like Vost. In a matter of seconds, Sullivan was beaten. Eliot took hold of the gun with ease and shoved the portly man to the floor.

Alek's heart lurched- he didn't have time to consider his options. Right now, the important thing was to stop Eliot. Without hesitation, he pointed the gun squarely in the center of Eliot's chest and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet missed by a mile, but the gunshot certainly caught Vost's attention. His eyes narrowed on Alek, but he made a spectacle of pointing his weapon at Sullivan, who was still lying flat on the floor.

"I certainly didn't expect _that_ , Mr. Hohenberg," he said snidely. "I thought you were something of a pacifist."

"I could say the same to you," Alek replied, and in turn aimed his gun at Damian Vost. "Don't move an inch, or I won't hesitate to shoot your brother. And this time, I won't miss."

Damian snarled. "You think I would allow a child like you to stop me?" He leveled his gaze with Eliot's. "And you. You _betrayed_ me. That is something that I cannot forgive."

 _"Enough!"_ Eliot Vost erupted, his voice shockingly loud. "Damian, you half-wit! Yes, I took advantage of your ridiculous bloodthirsty desire to rebuild your pathetic _cult_. I offered you my brotherly love, which you so desired after our family estranged you all those years ago. Best of all, I promised you a sum of money so large that you couldn't resist. But do you really think I intended to share my wealth? Do you honestly think I would allow the name Vost to be tarnished by this ridiculous Brigade that you so foolishly wasted your life creating? No. All I needed was to keep you under my thumb until I could collect my fortune."

This turn of events did not particularly surprise Alek, but they certainly had an impact on Damian, who viciously bared his teeth. "How _dare_ you-"

Eliot shot him in the face. Twice.

Damian Vost never finished his sentence, and nor would he ever speak again. His body collapsed gracelessly, and Alek was certain that the man was dead before he hit the ground.

"Vermin." Eliot Vost spat. His saliva landed on his dead brother's face.

This single act of unkindness, to disrespect the body of his own brother so spitefully, appalled Alek. Eliot Vost must have noticed his horrified expression.

"You pity a man whom you so mercilessly beat a mere few minutes ago? How feeble of you, Mr. Hohenberg."

…..

Deryn came to, yanked out of her stupor by the sound of a gunshot. She lurched forward only to be pressed firmly back against the floor by Dr. Barlow.

"It appears this situation has gone a bit out of hand," the lady boffin said mildly, indifferent to the cacophony.

"Barking spiders! What the devil is going on in there?" Deryn demanded.

"That is none of your concern at the moment." Dr. Barlow replied. "Honestly, miss Sharp, I am going to be furious with you if you allow yourself to lose consciousness again. How impolite that was!"

"Er, sorry about that," Deryn mumbled with irritation. Of course the lady boffin would be _offended_ by Deryn's near-death experience.

"Just do not let it happen again," Dr. Barlow ordered sternly. "I've just managed to stop the bleeding, but it won't do a thing if you keep on wriggling around like that."

"Aye." Deryn agreed. She had begun to grow used to the pain in her shoulder by now- it was by no means pleasant, but it had become somewhat familiar. At least she didn't feel as if she were on the verge of tears anymore. How embarrassing would _that_ be- to cry in front of the lady boffin, and Alek, to boot!

Dr. Barlow abruptly stood, wiping her bloodied hands on her skirt. "I'm off to see what that ridiculous noise was about. You-" she narrowed her eyes at Deryn accusingly- "are to stay put. Do not move an _inch_." She spun on her heel and was off.

Deryn remained obediently still for about a minute and then propped her head up to take a peek at the doorway to the laboratory. Unfortunately, she couldn't hear a thing going on inside. She strained her ears, hoping to catch even a measly snippet of conversation.

She was listening so hard that she did not notice the figure approaching her until he loomed directly behind her.

"You filthy liar."

She recognized Edward's voice in an instant and jerked her head back to get a look at him. Still clad in only his undergarments and shivering slightly, he was not particularly imposing. Deryn smothered a snort.

"I am sorry that I broke my promise to you." She apologized. And it was the truth- she did feel guilty about promising to free him in exchange for Damain's name. "But your father shot me, so I'd like to think that we're even now."

Edward looked at her reproachfully, then squatted next to her. "You left a blood trail all the way up here, you know. You weren't exactly hard to find."

Deryn smirked. "I do apologize if I've stained the carpet," she scoffed in her posh princess accent. A thought occurred to her, though, so she didn't go on with her jest. "Wait- how did you get out of that room?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "My father must have found me and left me there in disgust, but he left the door open at least. Once I woke up- that was a _mean_ punch, by the way- all I had to do was work my way through the knots in the shoelace and leave."

"And you couldn't find a shred of clothing on the way here?" Deryn grinned. "My, that long walk must have been traumatic in your skivvies."

He grimaced. "You know, I don't think now is a good time for you to be taunting me, you fake princess. Yes, I know you're a fake. No princess could punch like that. Besides, I could easily kill you right now if I wanted to."

Deryn sighed. dropping her fake British accent. "You'd kill a wounded, unarmed girl for teasing you about your underwear? That's pure dead awful."

"What was _awful_ was you taking all my clothes and nearly breaking my nose. Again." Edward retorted. "And I'm not going to kill you. It wouldn't do me any good. I hated this whole thing. I never wanted to hurt you. Father told me that this would be an easy affair. We'd kidnap you, have you for maybe a day, and someone would pay your ransom and it would be over. If I'd have known things would go this far…there's no way I would have let this happen."

Deryn narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll take that as your apology, then." She sighed. "Were you and your father the only members of that Brigade of his, then? There's nobody else who's going to come up here and kill us?"

Edward ran his hand through his dark hair thoughtfully. "The Brigade was enormous a few decades ago," he explained. "My father said he led nearly a hundred men. But after the Society disbanded them, he was alone. My mother left because he couldn't let go of his obsession with destroying fabrications, and I was the only one he had. It was only the two of us, this whole time."

Deryn couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Edward. To grow up with a man like Damian as a father, with no mother to speak of, could not have been a good childhood.

"And who might this young man be?" Dr. Barlow's voice startled both of them. "And why is he so tastelessly dressed?"

Deryn was not entirely sure how to respond to this question. "This is Edward." She answered slowly. "He, ah, a _was_ a member of the Brigade, but he helped Sullivan and I escape. He's on our side."

Edward shot Deryn a surprised glance, but didn't correct her.

"Well then I hope he isn't too upset to hear that his leader has met a rather untimely death." Dr. Barlow remarked casually.

The blood drained from Edward's face. "Say that again." He said slowly.

Dr. Barlow huffed impatiently, oblivious to Edward's shock. "I said, the leader of your little Brigade is dead." She waved her hand at the laboratory. "He was killed by his own brother. Despicable."

Edward didn't waste a moment listening to Dr. Barlow's explanation. He simply pushed past her and burst into the laboratory.

Deryn closed her eyes, her heart filled with sorrow. From inside the other room, she heard Edward's cry of anguish, and she wished she hadn't.

"My," Dr. Barlow commented. "What a loud reaction."

Deryn couldn't help it. "That was his _father._ " She snapped.

Dr. Barlow's eyes widened, revealing her surprise for only a moment. Then, as nonchalantly as ever, her expression returned to normal. "I thought I told you not to move, miss Sharp."

Deryn closed her eyes as Dr. Barlow re-examined her wounds again.

"That man may be his father, but the boy is better for his death." Dr. Barlow said softly. "No child should grow up with a father so cruel."

Deryn didn't say anything, but she couldn't help from thinking something differently. _Yes, but even a cruel father is better than none at all._


	17. Disposable

**Chapter 17:  
"Disposable"**

 **August 4, 1915** **  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters**

Alek kept his gun trained on Elliot, but his hands were shaking. He could not disguise his astonishment and outrage. "He was your partner in this vile scheme! What reason did you have to kill him?"

Dr. Barlow's entrance interrupted whatever response Elliot might have given.

"Honestly, Sullivan," she quipped to the other boffin, who was struggling to rise after being knocked to the floor. "I leave you alone for one minute and you allow the situation to spiral completely out of control. How incompetent."

Alek had no idea how Dr. Barlow could remain so unfazed after witnessing the scene before her. A gruesome body lay on the ground before her, and their dangerous adversary was brandishing a smoking revolver.

"Shrewd as ever, Dr. Barlow." Sullivan sighed. "I must admit I allowed my partner to get the better of me in more ways than one." Sullivan climbed to his feet with an effortful grunt. "However, of this I am sure: that gun in my partner's hand is as useless as a paperweight now. It held six shots, and, counting the two bullets that Elliot just spent, they have all been fired."

"Hmph." The lady boffin replied. "I shall chalk that up to sheer dumb luck."

At hearing this news, Elliot's blank expression turned dark. With a vicious snarl he turned to aim the gun straight at Sullivan and pulled the trigger.

There was only a hollow click.

Alek breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't realize until now just how tensely he had been holding his own weapon. Still keeping it trained on Elliot with both hands, he relaxed his grip on the gun.

"Worthless!" Elliot rumbled, and with all his strength, he threw the useless weapon at Sullivan. It hit the boffin in the gut and dropped harmlessly to the floor.

"You really do hate me, don't you?" Sullivan remarked casually. He bent to pick up the revolver and handed it to Dr. Barlow. "Why don't you keep that in your coat, just for safekeeping? It might be useless now, but knowing Elliot, he always has a trick up his sleeve."

"Very well." She agreed, taking the gun and placing it carefully in her coat as Sullivan had advised. "I must return to Deryn now. It would be wise of you both to restrain Mr. Vost to avoid future… complications. Heaven knows you should be able to manage that at least." She turned and strode back out into the hall.

"Dr. Sullivan, find something to tie him up with," said Alek, never taking his eyes off the infuriated Elliot. "And make it quick."

"This should do." Sullivan retrieved a coil of nylon cord from a peg on the wall.

"Yes," Alek agreed. "Mr. Vost, I have absolutely no reservations about shooting you," He lied. Put your hands behind your back and stay still while the doctor ties you up."

Although Elliot Vost's eyes were blazing with resentment, he followed Alek's orders and allowed Sullivan to fasten the nylon cord tightly around his wrists.

"You never answered me," Alek finally stated, after Sullivan had finished the job and Elliot's hands were bound fast. "Why did you kill your brother?"

Before Vost had a moment to answer, a boy burst into the laboratory and shoved Alek aside in his haste. At the sight of Damian's bloody corpse, he let loose an earsplitting howl. He reached a hand out towards the body, but stood frozen, as if he was too afraid to come closer.

"What…who are you?" Alek asked with uncertainty. He kept his weapon pointed at Elliot, but could not help but stare at the intruder, who wore nothing but his underclothes.

"Edward," Sullivan said gently, "don't look."

The boy whipped around to face Alek. Tears were brimming in his eyes, but his expression was ferocious. "You murderer!" He accused, lurching forward. Alek instinctively stepped back.

"This wasn't…I did not kill this man." Alek fumbled to explain. "It was him…" he gestured towards Elliot, who loomed over them all imposingly. Even with his hands bound, he was still menacing.

"It's true, Edward." Sullivan confirmed. "Your father's partner, your uncle, did this."

"His uncle?" Alek gaped, completely confused.

"Why should I believe you?" Edward snapped at Dr. Sullivan. "You've done nothing but lie since we've met."

Sullivan shrugged. "You can believe what you like. But Alek here is an honest fellow, and he's the one pointing a weapon at your father's murderer."

An honest fellow,Alek thought. His actions had proved to be the complete opposite. He'd constructed lie after lie to deceive Elliot Vost. Even though the man was the culprit, that did not mean that Alek wasn't a liar.

"You..." Edward turned to Elliot Vost. His anger seemed to have faded. He looked more incredulous than furious. "I don't understand. Why? You orchestrated this all, and he was your brother. He helpedyou. It doesn't make sense!"

"No," Elliot Vost sneered, his voice filled with venom. "What doesn't make sense is how a fool like your father could possibly share my blood. Or, for that matter, how a spineless mutt like you could, either."

If Elliot had expected some response from Edward, he was disappointed. The boy only stared at him with solemn eyes, waiting for him to continue.

"Your father was a lunatic. Obsessed with his hatred for fabrications and Darwinism. His extremism made him an outcast. When the crown finally realized that his beloved Brigade was nothing but a group of fanatical Monkey Luddites, they quickly destroyed his credibility and disbanded the group. His wife, your mother, left him when his mania only grew stronger. That idiot woman should have taken her with you when she left. With a father like that, you never had a chance to lead a normal life. I killed him because I had no more use for him. He had served his purpose. You should be thankful that I freed you from that tyrant."

"My father was a cruel man," Edward conceded, "and his hatred for fabrications consumed him. But he also cared about those poor animals whose lives were sacrificed in the name of science. He spoke up for the creatures- the _natural_ creatures of this world- that were killed so that Darwinist boffins could make rugs that never frayed or clothing that only the wealthy could afford. He taught me just how cruel your so-called science could be. I may not hate all fabrications like he does, but I hate how Darwinists use animals like they are disposable."

"Disposable," Elliot chuckled. "Just like your father was."

"You are a filthy man," Edward spat, "who cares more for money than life."

Alek hesitated, but decided it was for the best to speak up. "We still have a chance to save lives," he began, "both animal and human. Beneath our feet there are animals being confined and used in Vost's experiments. We can set them free. And, somewhere in this facility, is the secret of Black Star, a weapon that could kill thousands of humans and turn the tide of the war. We have the upper hand now. We can stop Black Star from ever being used in this war. No one else has to die today."

Edward nodded. "I can accept this."

Alek turned to face Sullivan. "I'm going to make sure that every canister of Black Star you've ever made is destroyed, along with the formula. I hope that you do not plan on stopping me."

Sullivan nodded. "I have no intention of stopping you. Allow me to help you clean up this mess I've made."

"All right," Alek declared. "We've come to an agreement. Elliot Vost, you are going to lead us to level 7."

…

Deryn Sharp might have had a gunshot wound, but if she was dying from anything, it was boredom.

" _Blisters_!" She swore, craning her neck to try and peek inside the laboratory. "What's going on in there? Is Alek all right?"

"Young Aleksander is quite all right." Dr. Barlow answered. Honestly, Deryn, you ought to be a bit more concerned about yourself," she said with exasperation, continuing to examine Deryn's shoulder.

Deryn hated this. Lying helplessly on the ground while the lady boffin fussed over her wounds, driveling on about 'keeping still' and 'breathing slowly.' It was maddening! There was something going on in there, and Alek was in the thick of it. Deryn should be at his side, protecting him. Instead, she was flat on her back like a ninny.

"I feel much better, honest," Deryn promised. "Now let me up, would you?"

Dr. Barlow raised an eyebrow. "If you're feeling as well as you say, then this should not hurt a bit." She dabbed at the wound with a cloth doused in antiseptic.

Deryn bit her lip to keep from yowling. That had a mean sting.

"Well?" The lady boffin asked. "Did it hurt?"

"Not even a wee bit." Deryn lied. "I feel fit as a ferret."

"You know, for a girl who is so talented at pretending to be someone else, you make quite a bad liar." Dr. Barlow smirked.

Deryn had nothing to say to that.

"Well, while you are far from being fit as a ferret," Dr. Barlow remarked, "I do not believe your life is in any immediate danger. You should be well enough to move quite soon, and I instructed Count Volger to arrive here an hour after we did. He should be here quite soon, and then I can leave him with Alek and take you to a physician."

"I don't want to leave Alek!" Deryn protested. "At least let me stay."

"Not a chance," the lady boffin declared. "You simply do not have a choice in the matter."

"That seems daft, seeing as how I'm the one who got shot," Deryn complained. She was about to object some more when she felt something warm move at her side. "What's that?"

"Ah, you've finally realized. That would be a kitten that Aleksander rescued from the facilities below." Dr. Barlow informed her. "Quite the bleeding heart, the young man seems to be."

Deryn smiled. "That's Alek, all right. _Dumkopf._ "

Dr. Barlow took one last look at Deryn's shoulder and nodded. "I should bandage this now, which means I need you to sit up."

"I get to move?" Deryn grinned. "Finally!"

"It will hurt," the lady boffin warned her. She positioned her hand on Deryn's back. "Let me help you." Deryn gritted her teeth and stifled a moan as Dr. Barlow helped her into a sitting position. The tiny kitten leapt into Deryn's lap as soon as she was upright.

"What a little fuzzball you are," Deryn smiled, petting it with one hand while Dr. Barlow bandaged her shoulder. "Have you got a name?"

"Aleksander never quite got around to that." Dr. Barlow replied nonchalantly.

"He's got a bit of pudge," Deryn thought for a moment. "I think I'll call him Sullivan."

"What is it?" Dr. Sullivan replied. The doctor, as well as Alek, Edward, and an enourmous fair-haired man emerged into the hall. Deryn was a squick surprised to see that Alek was pointing a gun at him.

"Not you. The kitten." Deryn smiled, petting the tiny creature. "I named it Sullivan."

"What a ridiculous name for a cat," came Count Volger's voice from the opposite end of the hall.

"Volger?" Deryn watched as Alek's head swung back in the direction of the Count's voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Now, now, Alek, keep your eyes on the criminal," Dr. Sullivan advised. Alek nodded and turned to face Elliot again.

"Dr. Barlow and I already had arrangements, and the guards let me in once they realized I was with the Society," the Count replied, eyeing Deryn with curiosity. "And I see that things went better than expected."

"I wouldn't say _that_ ," Deryn mumbled beneath her breath.

"Excellent timing, Count Volger," Dr. Barlow affirmed. "I was about to escort Deryn out to a physician. Why don't you accompany Aleksander. Where, exactly are you headed?"

Alek's voice was firm when he replied. "We're going down to Mr. Vost's secret laboratory, and getting rid of Black Star once and for all."

Deryn couldn't help but think that he sounded strangely grave. It made her heart lurch in her chest. _Stay safe, Alek,  
_ she wanted to say, but she couldn't bring herself to speak the words. With a gun in his hand and steel in his eyes, he looked almost nothing like the boy she was in love with.

 **Sorry, I'm totally the worst...it's been like a year since I've updated this story. My bad! Don't worry, I'm actually going to finish it. Thanks to Clevingrr for calling me out and reminding me to write, and everyone else who has stuck with me!**


	18. The Illusion of Victory

**Chapter 18:  
"The Illusion of Victory"**

 _ **August 4, 1915**_ ** _  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters_**

Deryn wondered if anyone else noticed that Alek's hands were shaking. His knuckles were stark white, the _dumkopf._ Deryn knew he was anxious. The daft prince hated guns, and there he was, doing his best to pretend he wasn't quaking in his boots. She wanted to walk right up to him, rip the pistol away from him, toss it aside, and hold his hands until they stopped shaking.

Of course, that wouldn't be the smartest move, seeing as how he was pointing the revolver at a dangerous madman who would probably take advantage of the situation and snatch the gun right off the floor. Also, Deryn wouldn't make it two steps before the lady boffin shot her that icy glare and ordered her to "sit down, young lady!"

Deryn apparently wasn't the only one who noticed Alek's jitters. Count Volger strode coolly up to him and clapped a hand on Alek's shoulder. The boy nearly jumped a mile. If she wasn't so worried about him, Deryn might have snorted.

"Allow me, your Serene Highness," Volger drawled, gesturing for Alek to hand him the pistol. "We wouldn't want your royal arms to get tired, now would we? Besides, your form is terrible."

Deryn knew the Count well enough to know that he was trying to help Alek without drawing attention to his weakness. Or maybe, Deryn reconsidered, Volger was incapable of speaking to anyone without adding a splash of his usual sarcastic flair.

Either way, Alek offered the gun to him without protest. "You know quite well that I'm no longer royalty," he said to the Count with a pointed look, but Volger only sniffed, accepted the weapon, and aimed it at Vost's back.

Dr. Barlow's interjected abruptly. "I can tell that you gentlemen are all quite eager to uncover Mr. Vost's deepest darkest secrets. I, however, shall need some assistance with Miss Sharp here."

"I am _fine,_ " Deryn insisted. The Count raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze to her bloody, bandaged shoulder. "I can walk by myself," Deryn rephrased, but no one paid her a squick of attention. Bum rags.

Dr. Barlow gestured towards Edward, who was staring at the ground with glassy eyes. "Edward, is it? Perhaps you would like to accompany us ladies out to the automobile."

Deryn expected Edward to refuse. After all, she lied to him about her identity, stolen his clothes, and punched him in the face.

But she was wrong. Edward obediently broke off from the group of men with nothing but a forlorn last look at Elliot Vost. He seemed neither angry nor frustrated at the sight of his father's killer. Instead he looked utterly hopeless, as if someone had drained all the light from his eyes.

"Please," Alek implored softly with a glance towards Deryn, "watch out for her."

"I am _right here_ ," Deryn reminded them, but of course she was ignored again.

Edward met Alek's eyes and nodded.

"Barking spiders," Derny snapped at Alek with a steely glare. " _You're_ the ones who ought to watch out, you daft prince. Don't let that _viper_ get the better of you." She shot Vost a venomous glance. "And don't you worry about me. If I can survive a zeppelin attack, I can survive one wee bullet."

"She's right, you know," Sullivan pitched in. "That young lady can certainly take a beating."

"She can _give_ a hell of a beating, too," Edward mumbled under his breath.

Alek grinned. "I'll see you soon, Deryn," he promised.

Deryn winked mischievously at him. "Course you will."

"This is all very touching," Count Volger said dryly, "but I do believe it's high time that we got all got a move on." He prodded Vost in the back with the pistol. "Let's be on our way. Take us to…wherever it is that we're going."

The two groups parted ways without another word. A little part of Deryn wanted to call Alek back to her and plant a kiss on his lips. But it was too late- the moment had passed.

…

As Vost began leading them down the imposing stone staircase to the lower levels, Alek and Sullivan explained the situation to Volger, who had only heard Dr. Barlow's suspicions about Elliot.

"I must admit I was a bit surprised to see Deryn and Dr. Sullivan," Volger replied once he had been filled in. "And, while I did have my doubts about Vost, I never expected him to be working with the Brigade."

Elliot remained silent as he led them through the complex. It was…odd. Alek had expected some resistance from him. After all, they were ordering the man to lead them to his best kept secret, the clandestine laboratory dedicated to Black Star research. It was eerie how compliant he was.

Perhaps it had something to do with being held at gunpoint- although Alek doubted that this was the case. Vost had tackled Sullivan without any reservation, and he had a revolver pointed straight at him then, too.

Alek considered the idea that Vost was leading them into a trap. But that seemed unlikely. He'd had no time to prepare something like this, and it would be difficult for him to beat Alek, Volger, and Sullivan in a fight. Still, Alek could not shake the feeling growing within him that something was not right.

Silently, Elliot led them down to the sixth level and into a storage room filled with crates of chemicals.

"This can't be it," Alek protested. "I saw this room, there's nothing in here."

For the first time since his tirade against Edward, Elliot spoke up. "One of you help me move this," he ordered, gesturing to an empty shelf.

"I think not," Volger remarked. "Alek, Sullivan, you both move the shelf. _You,_ " he said, tapping Vost with the pistol, "stay right where you are."

The shelf seemed surprisingly light to Alek. He and Sullivan shoved it aside with little effort to reveal a narrow doorway painted the same grey shade as the wall. Alek turned the handle and pushed it open to reveal a staircase that descended into darkness.

"What secrets you must be hiding down there, partner," Sullivan chided.

"Take us down," the Count directed. "Alek, stay behind me."

Alek found himself wishing for a lantern filled with glowworms as he followed Volger down into whatever depths waited for them below. Disgusting creatures they were, yet it would have been comforting to have some light, even if it _was_ green and eerie. Alek kept feeling Sullivan's hot breath on the back of his neck, and it made him shudder.

When they finally reached the base of the staircase, Sullivan lurched forward, shoving Alek, who in turn bumped into Volger. There was a loud clatter as someone was sent crashing into something in the pitch black.

"Aleksander, where are you?" Count Volger asked calmly.

"I'm all right. I'm still behind you," Alek replied. "Sullivan must have tripped on the last stair."

"I'm doing quite well, too, thanks," Sullivan grumbled from behind him.

"Unfortunately," came Elliot Vost's menacing voice from across the room, "that won't last long." Without warning, electric lights suddenly flickered to life above them, revealing a scene before them that made Alek's gut sink.

Littering the floor were small metal canisters, all of them bearing Black Star's label. Among them lay the locked silver briefcase that Vost had been carrying at the gala. Glass cages were lined up all around the wall, a spider, frog, or snake inside each one. _These are the venomous creatures used to create Black Star's toxin,_ Alek realized. If any one of those cages had shattered, the creatures could have easily escaped.

Worse than all of the creatures, however, was Elliot Vost. He stood facing the three of them, brandishing a canister of Black Star in hand.

Count Volger was the first to break the silence. He never lowered the gun, or broke eye contact with Vost. He issued a command, although it wasn't to Elliot. "Aleksander," he ordered gruffly, "get out of here, now."

Alek was about to protest when Vost spoke up. "None of you are to leave. None of you are to move. Do so and I will open this canister without hesitation."

"Do you mean to sacrifice all of us, then?" Alek asked incredulously. "You would take your own life to keep this secret?"

Sullivan guffawed. "This is a bluff. He would never do such a thing. If there's one thing I know about this man, it's that he's far too selfish to risk his own life."

"You're right, for once," Vost replied. "I would never risk my own life. But this is no bluff." His face remained stoic, revealing nothing.

"Are you…somehow immune to the gas?" Alek asked cautiously. That nagging feeling that something was wrong resurfaced in the back of his head. _There has to be something else going on here._

"Correct." Vost sneered. "I never anticipated that I would be discovered so quickly, but I have always been prepared." He bent and recovered the metal briefcase from the floor. He slipped a hand into his pocket, retrieved a small key, and unlocked the case. Inside, carefully encased in foam, were glass vials filled with clear liquid. Vost retrieved one, snapped the briefcase shut, and locked it, replacing the key in his pocket. In one smooth motion, he popped the vial's cork and swallowed the liquid inside in one gulp.

"You prepared an antidote," Sullivan realized aloud. "But…how? I never told you the formula, and even if I did, you wouldn't understand it well enough to create something like that!"

Vost tossed the empty vial aside without a second glance. The glass collided with the wall and shattered.

"If there's one thing I've learned about boffins, it's that they're all arrogant." Vost explained. "They never consider the idea that anyone could be as smart as they are, and they're never quick to realize when someone is playing the fool. Darwinists, Clankers, they're all the same. They all think they're the smartest one in the room."

"What is it that you want?" Count Volger challenged. "You may have the antidote, but you know that I will shoot you if you open that canister. Not to mention, there are three of us and one of you. Even if you opened the canister, we could easily overpower you, take your key, and open the briefcase to reach the antidote. So you must be willing to make a deal."

Elliot nodded. "You make an excellent point." Before any of them had a moment to react, he removed the cover on one of the glass cages, reached into his pocket, and dropped the key inside.

"Feel free to reach inside this cage filled with venomous spiders to retrieve the key. Although I would advise against it," he said haughtily.

Sullivan approached the cage and sighed. "Those are Yellow Funnel spiders," he began. The creatures inside were indeed spiders, Alek saw. They had swollen yellow bodies and long, hairy dark legs. They were at least ten in the cage, all of them scrabbling around in a frenzy. They were the ugliest creatures Alek had ever seen- and he'd seen plenty of ugly fabrications.

"They're fabrications made from combining the genomes of the Australian Funnel spider and the Yellow Sac spider, both of which are venomous, but would take at least a day to kill you. However, Yellow Funnel Spider venom is even more lethal. It will kill a human in less than ten minutes." Sullivan said gravely.

"Correct." Elliot replied smugly. "So now that that's out of the way, let's make a deal. Give me the gun, and I'll put this gas canister down. You let me leave this place, and I will vow to forget the formula for Black Star. I'll never make another chemical weapon again. Let me go free and I'll vanish. The Society can destroy Red Star Chemicals for all I care. I just want my freedom."

Suddenly, it came to Alek. "The guards!" He interrupted. " _That's_ what's been bothering me!" He directed his next question at Elliot. "This facility is patrolled by armed guards. I saw at least five when we came here. One of them escorted Dr. Barlow and me to you. So why is it that when you were being held at gunpoint, you never once called for your guards?"

Vost's composed expression finally gave way to a sinister smile. "So you've finally noticed," he declared.

"I dispatched every guard I met on my way down to meet you," Count Volger assured Alek. "They're all unconscious. They wouldn't have come if he had called."

Sullivan faltered. "But he had no way of knowing that." He said. "As far as Vost knew, the guards were all awake and ready to follow orders. So why didn't he call for them?"

It dawned upon Alek with horror. "Because he knew something like this would happen. He knew that Dr. Barlow and I, at the very least, would discover his betrayal. He planned to take us down here all along. We haven't beaten him. We're exactly where he wants us to be." He turned to face Vost. "You're not planning on allowing us to leave here alive, are you?"

"The illusion of victory has finally been shattered," Elliot Vost sighed. "While I never expected that Sullivan and the princess…or rather, that imposter, would escape my brother, everything else was expected. Either you let me escape free, or no one will leave here alive."

"You're wrong!" Alek fumed. "Deryn, Edward, and Dr. Barlow got away! They can still expose you and bring an end to Black Star!"

Vost raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? It will be quite difficult for them to expose me after they've turned to stone."

Alek froze. A horrific fear blossomed inside of him. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think my guards were up to while you traipsed around inside my facility? Playing cards? No. I had the foresight to instruct them to plant a canister of Black Star into your automobile once you came inside, and rig it so that the gas would be released when the engine is started."

"But they might take the car Count Volger came in," Alek insisted. "There wouldn't have been time for them to tamper with that one."

Count Volger's voice was quiet when he spoke up. "I didn't want the guards to notice me as I approached. I hid the automobile in a grove of trees outside the gate and snuck in on foot." He sighed. "It's very unlikely that they will find it."

"But it's _possible,_ " Alek insisted frantically. He could feel his heart thudding inside his chest. "It's possible, right?" He looked from Sullivan to the Count.

Sullivan said nothing. He looked as stricken as Alek felt.

There was a long moment before the Count responded. "It's unlikely, Aleksander."

Vost interrupted them. "It's a very slow acting toxin, of course, so it's unlikely that they will realize something is amiss until it is too late."

" _Stop it_ ," Alek whispered. He could not help but imagine Deryn, struggling to breathe, choking as she breathed in poison.

"First, a mere five minutes after being exposed to the gas, they will find it difficult to breathe," Elliot continued. "Their lungs will be the first to solidify, making breathing an agony."

"Stop talking," Alek repeated, louder this time.

Vost only ignored him. "Next their muscles will begin to grow stiff, freezing them in place like statues. This part is unbearably painful. Many of the animal test subjects writhed in pain, and perhaps half attempted suicide before the process was complete."

" _NO_!" Alek heard himself scream, but his voice sounded distant and far away. Visions of Deryn suffering invaded his thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut but it did no good.

"After that, their internal organs will shut down, one by one. It will take hours, perhaps even days, for them to finally die."

"I _will_ kill you," Alek vowed to Elliot. "I swear that if anything happens to Deryn, you will _never_ get away!"

"She's as good as dead, now." Vost replied stonily. "The only thing you can do now is worry about your own life. Yours and theirs," he said, gesturing to the Count and Sullivan.

Alek set his jaw. "You may think that you've won. You may be sure of your victory. But you made one mistake." He bared his teeth at Elliot Vost in a ferocious snarl. "I gave up my throne- my _single_ most important responsibility- for Deryn," Alek snarled. "Do you really think that I wouldn't give up my life, too?"

Alek turned and met Volger's eyes. "Don't let him escape with that briefcase. Shoot him if you have to."

"What are you talking about?" The Count began, but Alek was already striding towards Elliot.

Sullivan reached out and grasped Alek's arm. "Don't do anything stupid, boy," he warned.

"Don't worry," Alek promised. "Both of you will be fine once you have the antidote." He set his gaze on the cage filled with Yellow Funnel spiders. They scuttled around inside menacingly. Alek shuddered at the thought of going anywhere near them. "I'll get the key."

" _NO, ALEKSANDER!"_ The Count shouted, lurching towards him, but it was too late. Alek had already approached the cage and plunged his arm inside.


	19. Six Months Ago

**Chapter 19:  
"Six Months Ago"**

 _ **March 15, 1915**_ ** _  
Zoological Society of London_**

"Deryn," Alek began, coughing to conceal the mixture of unease and revulsion growing within him, "for the benefit of my sanity, would you consider allowing us to have this conversation somewhere else? Perhaps in a room that isn't infested with these abhorrent creatures?"

"I'm quite fond of the little buggers myself," Deryn chirped with a grin.

Scuttling on the floor all around her were the most enormous cockroaches he had ever seen. They were as long as a man's arm and quick as lightning. Just the sight of them made him want to squeal and make a run for the door, but Deryn would never let him live _that_ down. If he showed weakness here, she'd be teasing him for months, hiding bugs in his shoes and telling everyone at the Society that "his pampered ex-princeliness must never have seen a bug before!"

To Alek's horror, Deryn knelt down and began to stroke one of the roach's shells like she was petting a hound. It was times like these that made Alek question her judgement.

"They're absolutely _nightmarish._ " Alek shuddered.

"Alek, you've been attacked by zeppelins before, and you're telling me these little beasties are too much for you?" Deryn smirked at him.

"I don't see you going around petting zeppelins, though, do I?" Alek began. "And in what world could these… _things_ …be considered little?" He took a step towards Deryn and his boot nearly came down upon one of the hideous roaches. It hissed at him menacingly before scampering away. "For heaven's sake!" Alek stumbled backward in shock. "It hissed at me! Are these part snake?"

"Don't be a _dumkopf,_ Alek," Deryn replied, brushing off her knees and carefully stepping over the creatures on her way toward him. "The lady boffin told me they're fabricated from the life threads of roaches and grasshoppers, with a bit of praying mantis mixed in for aggression. They're called hoproaches."

"Hoproaches?" Alek inquired. "Does that mean that they can-" one of the insects answered his question by jumping a meter into the air and scuttling up the side of the wall.

"Clever name, huh?" Deryn asked.

"I think I'm going to faint," Alek muttered weakly.

"Alek, you're turning greener than a glowworm. I suppose you've seen enough of these beetles for one day. Let's go." Deryn took hold of his hand and led him from the room. The hoproaches hissed menacingly at them as they latched the door behind them.

"I…. am never… going into that room again." Alek panted.

Deryn grinned and, his hand still in hers, led them down the long hallway. "That's a shame. It's one of my favorite rooms in this place."

Alek gave her a worried glance. "I can't possibly fathom how you're fond of those creatures. I hate to admit it, but I was utterly terrified of them."

Deryn suddenly halted. "What's wrong?" Alek asked.

"I used to be. Scared of bugs, I mean." Her voice was unusually soft, and she was staring at the carpet.

"That doesn't sound like you at all," Alek pointed out. "The Deryn I know would probably accept a tea invitation from an insect the size of an elephantine."

"It was back when I was little," Deryn explained. "I used to beg Da to kill spiders whenever they got into the house. But he never would. He'd just pick them right up like it was nothing and set them free outside. I was certain that nothing scared him."

Alek had no idea what to say. It was the first time Deryn had spoken of her father in a long, long while, and he didn't want to spoil anything by saying something foolish.

Deryn continued, as though she sensed that Alek was interested. "He used to tell these marvelous bedtime tales when I couldn't go to sleep. He'd make up stories of silly fabs, like a cow with bat wings or a fish covered in fur. And the best one was about a spider the size of a hound. It barked like a hound, too, and was the most loyal mutt you could ask for. After hearing that story, I loved spiders. If I saw one inside, I'd follow it around, hoping it would lead me to a spiderhound that I could keep as a pet."

" _Barking spiders_ ," Alek realized. "That's why you always say that."

She nodded. "At first it was a joke between us," Deryn replied. "Da would find a spider and say, 'barking spiders! Where there's one, there's got to be more!' But then he started saying it for everything, all the time, until I started saying it too. I suppose it just became a habit."

She suddenly seemed to Alek like a little girl, with wet eyes and quivering lips, the loss of her father a fresh wound instead of a forgotten old ache. Without thinking, Alek reached out and touched her cheek. When Deryn met his eyes, her own shone with tears.

"I'm sorry," she began, but Alek pulled her into a hug before she could finish. "You don't have to apologize," he whispered. "I miss mine, too." Deryn nodded against his shoulder, and they stayed like that for a long, peaceful minute.

When Deryn finally pulled away, her eyes were dry again. "I got your coat all wet," she pointed out.

"It was an ugly coat anyhow." Alek replied with a smile. "Now, is there a room full of spiderhounds that I should know about so that I can avoid it at all costs?"

Deryn laughed. "There's no such thing, you bum-rag. And you wouldn't have to worry about them even if they did exist. Fabricated spiders about as dangerous as rabbits."

Alek scoffed. "I find that hard to believe. I've never heard of a venomous rabbit before." For that snarky comment, Alek received an elbow to the ribs.

"Very funny, Alek." Deryn chided. "The _real_ reason that fab spiders aren't dangerous is simple. Boffins do breed spiders to harvest venom for poisons and antidotes and the like, but they aren't daft enough to give them teeth to bite with."

"Wait," Alek replied, curious. "So you're saying that fabricated spiders aren't even capable of biting?"

"That would be correct." Deryn replied. "Honestly, Alek, most boffins are all far too pompous to risk their oh-so-important lives fabricating creatures that could kill them. Venomous snakes, frogs, spiders, they're all fabricated very carefully so that they pose no threat to anyone. Boffins extract the venom from inside the beasties' venom sacs or glands."

"How do you know all this?" Alek wondered.

Deryn scowled. "I may or may not have asked the lady boffin if she would fabricate a spiderhound for me. She then proceeded to give me an hour long lecture on the intricacies of spider fabs as punishment."

"That does sound like something Dr. Barlow would do," Alek smiled. "So I suppose you're not getting your spiderhound?"

"Afraid not," she replied. "But it's all right. After all," she said, roughly mussing Alek's hair, "I already have a perfectly good mutt."

It took Alek a moment to realize that _he_ was the mutt in question. "What? Now that was just obnoxious."

"I thought," Deryn replied smartly, "that my obnoxiousness was one of the many reasons why you're so terribly fond of me."

"Well," Alek said dryly, "you can be sure that your unholy affinity for spiders is _not_ one of those reasons."

…

 _ **August 4, 1915**_ ** _  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters_**

Alek ignored the sensation of the spiders' hairy legs as they darted around his hand. One of the creatures scurried up his arm, and its legs prickled horrifically against his skin, but he flicked it back into the cage with his free hand. _They can't bite me,_ he reminded himself. _Harmless as rabbits._ Yet he couldn't stop his hand from trembling fiercely, and his mind was racing with images of fangs dripping with venom.

Finally, his fingers closed around the key. It had only taken a few seconds to grasp, but it had felt like hours. Triumphant, he yanked his fist from the cage and turned to face Elliot Vost, whose expression of complete astonishment was perhaps the most satisfying thing he had seen that day.

"Give it up. You have nothing left to-" Alek began, but he was interrupted as Count Volger took hold of his arm and, with a frantic vigor Alek had never witnessed from the man before, began examining it for a wound.

"There isn't any time for this, Volger. I'm quite all right," Alek insisted.

For perhaps the very first time in his life, Alek noticed that Count Volger sounded…concerned. "You bloody well aren't! You _fool_! What were you thinking? You could have died!"

Sullivan appeared both surprised and impressed. "I have to admit, that was the ballsiest thing I've ever seen in my entire life. And I've met Deryn Sharp."

"You said it yourself, Dr. Sullivan." Alek pointed out. "Elliot Vost is far too selfish to risk his own life. He wouldn't dare to fabricate venomous spiders capable of harming him. I've heard that nearly all boffins fabricate venomous creatures without fangs, and I figured that Dr. Sullivan would be one of them."

Dr. Sullivan covered his face with his hands. " _I_ fabricated those spiders, Alek. That's why I knew so much about them. Don't you think I would have said something if they didn't have fangs?"

The blood drained from Alek's face. He suddenly felt extremely lightheaded. "Wait- you're telling me that these spiders were capable of biting me this entire time?"

Dr. Sullivan made a sound that was some combination of a chuckle and a wheeze. "It's something of a pain to alter the life strands of funnel spiders. If you try and remove the fangs, the venom becomes as useless as saliva. Most boffins don't work with them for that very reason. You, Aleksander, are the luckiest, stupidest boy I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."

The Count, who had recovered from his sudden bout of worry, gave Alek the most vindictive glare he had ever seen. "If I had not sworn an oath to your father to protect you, Aleksander, I would beat you senseless. Supposing you had any sense left to beat out."

It was at this moment that Alek realized that Vost had taken advantage of their distraction and made a break for the stairs, briefcase in hand.

"Take one more step and I will shoot you where you stand." The Count aimed his revolver squarely at the center of Vost's back. "I must warn you, I am an excellent shot."

At long last, Elliot Vost truly surrendered. While Volger and Sullivan secured him, Alek unlocked the briefcase, uncorked a vial, and downed it in one gulp. He hadn't started feeling the effects of the gas yet, but he was sure that if he stayed much longer he would begin to notice. He offered vials to Dr. Sullivan and the Count, and they swiftly drank theirs, too.

"I'm going after Deryn," Alek announced.

"I'll take care of my subordinate," Sullivan offered. "After all, this mess is my responsibility."

"I'm coming with you, Alek," Volger declared. "You won't be able to catch up with them without a vehicle, and I hid mine too well for you to find." He stuffed three vials in his coat pocket, one for Deryn, Dr. Barlow, and Edward.

There was no time to disagree.


	20. Shoddy Craftmanship

**Chapter 20:  
"Shoddy Craftmanship"**

 ** _August 4, 1915  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters_**

"What in the name of the Queen is that?" Edward gasped, gesturing towards the hallway ahead of them. They were nearly out of the complex now, and Deryn had been wondering why they hadn't encountered any guards yet. Her question was answered as soon as they had finally finished climbing the stairs and reached the main level.

There were plenty of guards, but all of them were sprawled on the floor and snoring softly. They looked like little children, all curled up and lying on top of one anther.

"Barking spiders!" Deryn laughed, and then instantly regretted it when a sharp jolt of pain shot through her shoulder like lightning. She winced, and Edward immediately stopped.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

Deryn was leaning on Edward, one slung around his shoulders. It was downright embarrassing to admit, buts she wouldn't be able to hold herself up without him. She was so exhausted that every step she took seemed like a marathon. The fact that Edward was still wearing nothing but his skivvies did not make her feel a squick better.

"Aye, Ed, I'm just marvelous," Deryn replied dryly.

Dr. Barlow, marching ahead of them, made absolutely no comment regarding the numerous men that Count Volger had rendered unconscious. Unimpressed, she simply stepped over them, as if they were nothing more than stones in her path.

With her eyes set forward, her posture sharp, and her pace quick, she almost looked like a general. Except, of course, for the little kitten Sebastian, perched atop the lady boffin's shoulder like a parrot. It mewed softly from time to time.

"This is not the time to dally, Miss Sharp," Dr. Barlow said curtly. "Here we are."

They had finally reached the exit. The lady boffin swung the metal door open, holding it for Edward and Deryn just long enough for them to come through.

The sunlight that flooded in was blinding, but it felt amazing on Deryn's skin. She hadn't been outside since her capture, and all she wanted to do was lie down in the grass and bathe in the brilliant warmth of the sun. She craned her neck up at the sky and breathed in the cool, natural air.

When was the last time she had been outside? How long had she spent in that horrible little cell, believing that she might die without ever seeing the sky again?

"I do remember saying something about dallying," Dr. Barlow chided, pushing open the metal gate to clear the way. "Perhaps I must remind you that a gunshot wound happens to be a slightly pressing subject, requiring swift medical attention."

"It's not as if I'm going to drop dead in the next ten minutes," Deryn muttered, although her throbbing shoulder seemed to be suggesting otherwise.

"You might if you keep talking back," Edward whispered. "How can she be so polite and yet so demanding all at once? That woman is absolutely terrifying."

"Believe me," Deryn said, "you've got absolutely no idea. I'd rather fight a ravenous tigeresque bare-handed than get on the bad side the lady boffin."

Although she didn't turn around or slow her pace, Dr. Barlow had heard their exchange. "I don't think you have enough meat on your bones to satiate a hungry tigeresque, Miss Sharp. Now, if you would, Edward?"

They had reached a shiny black automobile, sitting just outside the facility's enormous spiked gates.

Dr. Barlow held open the side door, and Edward helped Deryn inside as gently as he could and then sat down beside her.

Deryn instantly distrusted the automobile. She'd feel much safer in an airship instead of this clanky metal box on wheels. But she decided against complaining, seeing as how she was about to die and all that.

"I've never been in one of these before," Edward gulped, his face laughably pale. He was clutching Deryn's hand without realizing it.

"Don't worry," Deryn advised. "It's only about half as terrible as you expect it to be, unless it explodes, of course."

"Of course it's not going to explode," Dr. Barlow scoffed, and started the engine.

…

 _ **August 4, 1915**_ ** _  
Red Star Chemicals  
Research Laboratory Headquarters_**

Alek's lungs were burning and his muscles were screaming in protest, but he didn't slow his pace. With Count Volger just behind him, he sprinted up the endless flights of stairs towards the laboratory exit.

Images of Deryn's ghastly death, her muscles hardening into stone, haunted his thoughts, but he had no time to waste on thinking. He shoved the horrific idea aside and focused all his energy on running faster.

Alek was clumsy, and gangly, and had never run this fast or this far in his entire life, and he _felt_ it. He was already exhausted after climbing three flights of stairs, and there had been many, many more. His feet were numb and his legs were on fire.

After what felt like years, he finally emerged into the sunlight.

Instantly he noticed the cloud of thick, black smoke that hung heavy in the sky. Sucking in air, breathing heavily from sprinting, he immediately inhaled it and began choking.

But there wasn't time to stop. Alek forced himself to continue, even as the revolting stench filled his nostrils and his chest burned from breathing in the stuff. The smoke burned his eyes and make the hairs on the inside of his nose tingle.

And then, he stumbled upon the automobile.

Deryn and Edward were leaning against the metal gate, a few meters away from the smoking vehicle, while Dr. Barlow, looking as irritated as Alek had ever seen her, stood closer to it, staring at it as if that would make it stop emitting the thick black smoke that was pouring out from under the hood.

"I thought you said it wasn't going to explode," Deryn quipped cheerfully. She was leaning against Edward, and although she looked fatigued, she was wearing an enormous smile as she scratched Sebastian behind the ears.

"Well, I'm not a bloody mechanic!" Dr. Barlow snapped, her bowler hat askew and her face streaky from the smoke. With one foot, she lashed out and kicked the metal frame ferociously. After that, she inhaled deeply, squared her shoulders, and seemed to recover from her uncharacteristic outburst.

"You've got to get away from there!" Alek choked out, staggering towards them. "You've all been poisoned!"

Dr. Barlow hadn't heard a word he had said. She strode over to him and adjusted her bowler hat. "Alek, I most commend you for your remarkable timing. You're quite the mechanic. Is there anything you can do about this…situation?"

Alek looked at her with complete and total confusion. He was baffled.

How could they all be so calm? In fact, neither Dr. Barlow, nor Deryn and Edward showed any symptoms of having been poisoned by Black Star gas. If what Eliot had said was true, they should already be exhibiting terrible symptoms. And yet, they all seemed to be all right.

"You don't… understand!" Alek gasped, coughing through the smoke. "You've all been poisoned! Vost had the guards rig the engine with Black Star gas so that you would all be killed if you tried to leave!"

"And that would have been terribly vexing, of course, if the engine had actually started in the first place," Dr. Barlow said flatly. "However, nothing I did seemed to get the preposterous thing to work. The more I tried to start the engine, the more of this revolting smoke poured out."

Alek paused. "So you're saying… the engine never started?"

Dr. Barlow nodded. "Shoddy craftsmanship, no doubt."

The Count, who had just appeared next to Alek, as composed as if he had been strolling around the block instead of sprinting up flights of stairs, took in the situation quickly.

He approached the smoking automobile and lifted its hood easily, peering inside. Alek, his chest still heaving, did the same.

Tucked right up against the engine, right where Eliot Vost had said it would be, was a small, unopened canister of Black Star. It was sealed tight.

"Shoddy or not, that poor craftsmanship saved you all." Alek could barely believe it. "I think, just this once, luck might have been on our side."

"I think you're forgetting about the bit where I got kidnapped and shot," Deryn called from over by the gate. "I think that qualifies as unlucky."

Sebastian mewed in her lap. "You're right, of course, aren't you, little beastie?" She grinned. "At the end of the day, we're still alive, and that's what matters."

Alek, overcome by exhaustion, fell to his knees. "I guess I plunged my arm into a tank filled with venomous fabricated spiders all for nothing," he wheezed.

"Blisters, you did _what_?" Deryn wheezed. "That sounds like a pure dead awful idea."

Count Volger's voice was thick with disapproval when he retorted. "It was."

"Honestly, Alek," Deryn sighed. "And here I thought _you_ were the sensible one and I was the one who made all the rash decisions."

Alek shrugged. "To be perfectly honest, it was sort of exhilarating. Maybe I'll make a habit out of it."

"You'd better not," Volger warned, but Alek swore he saw the hint of a smile beneath the Count's mustache.

"Well," Dr. Barlow interjected, clapping her hands together, "now that that's settled and none of us have been fatally poisoned, I say it's high time we got out of this place."

For once, all of them agreed.


	21. Nothing to Forgive

**Chapter 21:  
"Nothing to Forgive"**

 ** _August 22, 1915  
London Zoological Society_**

"So… how are you feeling?" Alek asked her for what felt like the millionth time. Even though Deryn was looking straight at him, he didn't look her in the eye.

He was standing up pole-straight, his arms hanging limp at his sides. The _dumkopf_ always stood like that when he didn't know what to do with his hands. He was acting strange. No, Deryn decided, 'strange' wasn't the right word. He was acting completely bonkers.

It had been exactly eighteen days since she had been reunited with Alek, and he hadn't tried to kiss her. Not _once_. It was pure dead maddening.

Everything was all wrong. Well, not everything. Sure, some things had ended up well enough.

Eliot Vost was being held prisoner by the Society for his crimes against Britain. had joined forces with the Society, and he and Dr. Barlow were working to take down the remaining Red Star factories for good. Even Edward had been forgiven by the Society, and was working with the boffins to help make sure that all animals and fabs were being treated humanely. He seemed more comfortable with the little beasties than he ever had been with his father.

And yet, Alek was different. He had visited her a few times, in the first week after they had returned to the Society. She had still been recovering then, and spent most of her time cooped up in her little room, sleeping and reading whatever she could get her hands on. Mostly, she had been bored out of her mind. But Alek always left whenever she had tried to strike up a conversation, saying that he didn't want to interrupt her rest. Deryn was dying for some company, but Alek scurried away like a frightened mouse.

When she was finally well enough to get out of bed and walk around, she tried to find him, but Alek seemed to be avoiding her at all costs. Every time Deryn walked into a room, Alek walked out of it. If their paths crossed in the hall, Alek just nodded at her and kept walking without a word.

The bum rag was acting like they were complete strangers. Or worse, like Deryn didn't exist anymore.

But now, he didn't have a choice. Deryn had just received a message lizard from the lady boffin, instructing her to meet in her office. And when she had arrived, Dr. Barlow was nowhere to be seen, but Alek was standing inside.

He stood up as soon as he saw her. And asked how she was feeling.

How she was feeling? Hurt. Confused. Angry.

"Bloody great, thanks," she replied curtly. She crossed her arms and sat down heavily in one of the chairs in front of Dr. Barlow's desk.

Alek pulled the other chair back and nearly tripped over it. He flushed bright red and righted himself before sitting down. "That's…that's good. That you're feeling well, I mean," he stammered.

Even though Deryn was furious with him, a tiny part of her couldn't help but find his blushing and his bumbling about adorable.

They sat in silence for a few long moments before she decided that she couldn't take it anymore.

"Why are you acting like this?" She accused him.

Alek looked away. "I'm not acting like anything." Deryn narrowed her eyes at him.

"Yes you are. You're acting impossible."

Alek frowned. "That doesn't even make sense. A person can't act _impossible_."

Deryn wanted to throttle him. "Barking spiders! You daft prince!" She had done her best to be civil, but she couldn't help but raise her voice. "You want me to 'make sense,' then? Fine! Have it your way! Why are you avoiding me? Why do you act like being in the same room as me is physically painful? Why can't you look me in the eye? You were kissing me a month ago, and now you won't even _look_ at me."

Deryn couldn't help it. Hot tears welled up in her eyes and started spilling down her cheeks. She was furious with herself for crying, for showing him how much he had hurt her, but she couldn't stop now. "A few days ago, I reached for your hand to stop you in the hall, and you flinched away from me, like I burned you."

Alek was staring at the floor.

She sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "I was so lonely, Alek. After I got back from…from that awful place, all I wanted to do was talk to someone about what had happened to me. All I wanted was to try and make sense of things. With you. But you wouldn't even speak to me. I was…Alek, I am so lonely. I've got no one to talk to, unless you count that buffoon Sullivan. I miss you. Alek."

Deryn rubbed at her wet cheeks with the heels of her hands. She hated crying in front of other people.

"Deryn, I…" Alek began, but his voice trailed off. He was still looking away from her, staring at his clenched fists.

"I just couldn't face you. After everything that happened, after everything I did…I don't have the right to speak to you."

Deryn wouldn't have been more surprised if Alek had suddenly announced that he was going to Spain to become a salsa dancer.

"What in the world are you driveling about?" She asked, dumbfounded.

Tears dripped down Alek's nose. "Deryn, everything that you were put through…It was all my fault. When that horrendous man threatened you, and when he hit you, that was all my fault. It was _my_ idea to get Eddie to write that article. It was _my_ idea to demand proof. I should have known that it wasn't a good idea. I should never have let you put yourself in danger at that party."

"You didn't _let_ me do anything!" Deryn interjected. "That was my decision to make, not yours. You know as well as I do that if you had asked me not to disguise myself as the princess, I would have done it anyway, just to prove that I could."

Alek put his face in his hands. His words came out muffled. "But still… if I hadn't demanded proof from Damian, he wouldn't have hit you. He would have threatened to cut you up like that. It was my fault that you had to endure all that fear."

Deryn had had enough. She got out of her chair and knelt in front of Alek. He glanced up at her for a moment, but then looked away.

"Look at me," Deryn said gently. She took his face in her hands, and finally, his green eyes settled on her blue ones.

"Alek," she began, her voice as soft and quiet as a whisper, "What happened to me was _not_ your fault. Damian Vost is the man who hurt me. And now he's dead. And I'm alive. And you're alive. And that is all that I could ever want."

Alek's eyes were red and bloodshot from crying. His face was crumpled in shame. His cheeks were ruddy and wet with tears. His nose was dripping. His lips were quivering.

And yet, more than anything in the entire world, all Deryn wanted to do was kiss him. So she did.

It was a long kiss, and it was salty from both their tears, but it was the sweetest one they had ever shared.

…

Alek felt like a thousand kilograms had been lifted off his shoulders. The guilt that had been eating him alive had finally dissipated. He had wanted to be with Deryn, more than anything, but even being near her had made his guts burn with shame.

And now he was free.

Deryn pulled him closer, and he was so completely entranced that he fell out of his chair and onto the floor next to her.

Deryn laughed so hard that Alek was worried she was going to hurt herself. "How very _princely_ of you," she gasped through her laughter. "I can just imagine the great former crown prince of Austria collapsing out of his throne onto the floor."

Alek couldn't help but laugh along with her. Her laugh was high, bright, and contagious. They lay on the floor, both of them staring up at the ceiling, laughing so hard that their stomachs hurt.

After they had both run out of breath, and they had a moment of comfortable silence, Alek took in a breath and asked the question he had been dying to.

"So do you forgive me?"

Deryn snorted. "When are you ever going to learn? Alek, there's nothing to forgive." She turned to look at him, and her blue eyes sparkled mischievously. "How long do you think we've got until Dr. Barlow meets us in here?"

Alek paused to think about it. "A few minutes, maybe. Why do you-"

"Perfect," Deryn smirked, and then, before he could say anything more, she climbed on top of him and straddled him, offering Alek a remarkable view of her chest. Her blond hair hung down around them like a golden curtain, and her lips were red from kissing.

She was so completely lovely. He had seen her made up, and in an impressive gown, with her hair done up and her face painted, but this was something different. That hadn't been Deryn, not really. But this, this fiery, passionate, fearless girl, panting with the effort from laughing, eyes sparkling, cheeks glowing, was so much more beautiful.

"I love you," Alek managed to stammer.

"You'd better," Deryn laughed, and kissed him again.

A few minutes later, that was how Dr. Barlow, Dr. Sullivan, and Count Volger walked in and found them. Lying on top of each other, breathless, giddy with kissing.

"Ahem." Dr. Barlow coughed pointedly. She was staring rather intently at the portrait of Charles Darwin on the wall behind her desk, as if silently apologizing that her grandfather's painting had witnessed such an indiscretion. Dr. Sullivan was genuinely surprised, and his jaw dropped before he recovered let out a friendly chuckle. The Count, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed by the scene unfolding in front of him. His expression was as blank as if he were in the middle of a diplomatic meeting.

For once, Alek was too happy to be embarrassed. He pulled away from Deryn, helped her stand, and pulled out her chair.

"Why thank you, Alek," Deryn smirked, and they both started laughing again.

"Are you quite done?" Dr. Barlow asked, and although her words were strict, there was the tiniest sliver of humor in her voice.

"I think so," Alek replied, doing his best not to smile. He was so dizzy with joy that it was hard to keep a smile off his face.

"I'm afraid your good mood is about to be spoiled," Volger said dryly.

Deryn looked up at him curiously. "What is it?" She asked.

Dr. Sullivan coughed. "It's not good."

Dr. Barlow agreed. "It most certainly is not." She straightened her bowler hat uncomfortably. "We thought we got to Vost in time, but we were too late." She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. When she finally reopened her eyes, they were as dark and serious as they had ever been.

"Elliot Vost already sold the recipe for Black Star to the enemy."

"What?" Alek stood up so quickly his chair nearly fell over. "Do you mean…"

Dr. Volger's expression was grave. "Yes, Aleksander. The Germans have it."

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  
Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me throughout this story! (No, it's not over, but it is starting to wrap up.) Your reviews have been so amazing and have given me so much confidence to continue with this story. (Latecomer, the review you posted recently made my whole day)Anyway, guys, sorry for constantly leaving you with hangovers that lasted months. I hope this steamy chapter helped make up for it. :) Anyway, as I wrap up writing this story, I would love your feedback. What did you think? And, more importantly, do you guys want more? I have been considering writing another story to follow this one, but I also have some other stuff (not Leviathan stuff, original stuff) that I'm working on. If I wrote more, would you read it? What do you guys want to see if I do write a 'sequel' to this? Please let me know, I love seeing feedback!


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